


The Coffee Shop

by YukiWings



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gun Violence, Nice Nathan, No Chloe, Poor Nathan, Sorry Not Sorry, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiWings/pseuds/YukiWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Taken from Fanfiction.net* Max has just started her part time job in Arcadia Bay at the local cafe, and she certainly doesn't expect for Mark Jefferson of all people to be her very first customer! The strange thing is though that he keeps coming back, and Max just doesn't know why. Is it just mere coincidence? Or something else entirely? On top of all that drama, Max has started having visions - or at least that's what she thinks they are...but what could they mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee Shop

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Originally on Fanfiction.net, I've decided to bring this fic o' mine over to Archive, so more of you lovely people have the opportunity to try it out! As I say on fanfiction.net., any feedback and comments you have to offer are 100% welcome, and as always, thank you for reading!

She hadn’t known this was his favorite coffee shop. Had she known, perhaps she’d have tried to secure a job here sooner. Perhaps then, there would have been more opportunities to talk with him. Not about school, not about what sorts of ‘teen mischief’ Max was getting up to—they could just talk. The best part about it was that inside this little café, they were away from one of very few people Max truly despised on campus—Victoria Chase. She remembered the first time he’d walked in—it had been her first day on the job, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to be her first customer for the day. The way his face had lit up at the sight of her though, the way his mouth had turned up in a cool grin the way it always did when she did or said something in class that appeared to impress him—it had made her heart flutter just a little faster, made her unable to keep a firm grip on the coffee mug gripped between cold and clammy hands as she stumbled along her way. Although, perhaps it had just been the sight of coffee that had made him smile that way. Perhaps.  
A girl could dream though, couldn’t she?

 

“So I had no idea you worked here.” He was leant against the counter, body angled in her direction as she worked her way around the coffee machine, rocking back and forth nervously on her heels as she waited for the water to heat. It had been particularly chilly the night before, and the girl’s boss had explained a little while ago the troubles they had been having with the pipes. Darn it, couldn’t this thing heat any faster?

Licking her lips briskly she stole a glance his way, cheeks warming as she saw that he was still looking at her, completely oblivious to the gazes the other barista on shift was giving him—or the stares of other young female patrons from their tables behind him. It was still only early morning, and a Saturday no less—yet the place had already started to fill up. Though she had only just started her shift ten minutes ago, the brunette had spent the past hour or so in the back with her boss—a prickly old woman of whom she was fairly certain had been her neighbor once upon a time, long, long ago. 

“I-I only just started today,” she stammered, mentally slapping herself for sounding so flustered. First day on the job and she was already stumbling around stuttering like a buffoon. Kudos, Max. Kudos. 

“Well then I’m afraid you’ll be seeing a lot more of me than most would usually would like to,” he laughed, and the sound nearly made Max drop the takeaway cup she’d only just picked up off the stack. Christ, she was a mess. 

“I don’t really mind.”

At this his laughter died off, a strange look washing over his expression. His eyes narrowed from behind his glasses, mouth turning down just slightly to form a grimace of sorts, a single brow lifting as he stared. A moment later though and it was gone, the good-natured smile returning almost as quickly as it had disappeared. Wondering if she had said something wrong Max turned her back to him, filling his cup and giving it a quick stir through, before securing the lid tightly. Carefully, she lifted it up and over on to the counter, his hand reaching out to take the coffee before she could place it down. At the slight brush of their fingertips her initial reaction would have been to flinch away and proceed to starfish herself against the far wall, though with the thought of being fired on the spot at the very front of her conscious, Max simply let his fingers slip over her own, clamping down firmly round the takeaway cardboard, before pulling away, leaving her hand to dangle mid-air awkwardly for the next half second before she recovered, arm dropping limp to her side. 

“Be seeing you in class on Monday.”

Fists clenching, she nodded curtly.

“Yeah.”

Over the expanse of the following week Max worked four further shifts—Mr. Jefferson turning up on _three_ of those four occasions. She had also found out shortly after the shift he had not turned up during that the man had been caught up in a teachers board meeting, and Max couldn’t tell if this knowledge confused or relieved her.

As the bell rang to signal the last period for the day being officially over, Max packed her things up and swung her bag over her shoulder, about to leave the photography classroom before a familiar voice called out to her. Mr. Jefferson stood aside his desk, eying her with that ever-present smile on his face, welcoming her to come over and join him. Victoria, having heard him call to her of course, scrunched up her nose and sneered none-too nicely as she stormed past the short-haired brunette, knocking their shoulders in her wake. Rubbing her arm absentmindedly, Max moved to Jefferson’s desk. He waited until the rest of the class had filed out before speaking, and Max sent a smile Kate’s way as the soft-spoken girl walked out the door, ultimately leaving the duo alone in the classroom.

“Are you working today?” 

The question took her a little off guard, and Max swallowed uncertainly as she stared him down. 

“Yeah I’m closing up shop. Why?”

“Bring all the photographs you’ve taken over the past few weeks so I can look them over, okay?”

“B-but—”

“No but’s, Max. You know the Everyday Heroes Contest is coming up soon, and I’ve received an entry from practically everyone but yourself. If you’re not planning on entering anything yet, let me see that at the least you’ve tried to take something suitable?”

Realizing she had little choice in the matter Max didn’t argue with him any further, knowing she could not win against the man when he set his mind on something like this. He was pushy, but she knew he only did it because he cared about his students and wanted each of them to perform as best they could throughout the year—especially when it came to rare one-off opportunities like this.

Shoulders slumping in defeat she nodded, and the smile he gave almost made the situation she’d been thrust in to bearable. Almost.

“Good girl.”

Walking in to the café an hour later, Max was unsurprised to see her teacher sitting at a single table situated closest to the front counter, coffee already at hand, and with a pause headed over to him, digging in to her satchel to grab out anything she could find that she’d taken as of lately. She placed the small pile down in front of him, folding her arms across her chest huffily. Lowering his cup the man began to spread the photographs out across the desk, glancing up at her a few moments later. 

“Thank you. You can start working now.”

Her jaw slackened a little.

“You’re not the boss of me here,” and after a second she off-handedly added a “sir” to her sentence in fear of offending him. 

His chuckling proved her fears trivial however, and he waved her off dismissively. 

“No I’m not, Miss Caulfield, but _she_ is.”

Folded arms dropping to her sides, Max turned to see her boss staring their way, glancing up to the clock hanging overhead on the wall before looking back to Max once more. 

“Shit I better go,” Max muttered, not giving her still laughing teacher a second glance as she rushed behind the counter, snatching up her apron to begin work for the afternoon. Stealing glances here and there in her teacher’s direction between serving customers and preparing warm beverages, Max couldn’t help the light blush that dusted her cheeks and nose at the way he looked avidly through her work, taking his sweet time in examining each and every photography closely, carefully, holding up two at a time now and then to compare before moving on to the next. Though flattered the man was taking so much time and effort to evaluate her photographic-finesse, Max still couldn’t stop herself from feeling totally flustered and embarrassed. She didn’t usually like to show her work to others—most of the shots she took meant for her eyes and her eyes alone. Allowing the man to look through them like this meant that she was letting him see parts of her she liked to keep to herself, and quite honestly this realization terrified her.

She felt vulnerable.

A few hours and several dozen coffee brews later, the girl was finally given the okay to start closing up. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” her boss waved over her shoulder as she left, not bothering with the man that still sat by the counter, photographs spread here and there across his small square table.

Turning the sign at the front door over to _closed_ , Max spared Jefferson a quick glance before heading out back to remove her apron, brushing herself off as she rolled her shoulders a little tiredly. Grabbing a water from the office freezer the brunette headed back out in to the café, about to address her teacher before noticing his absence. 

Frowning, Max instantly moved round the counter to stand at the table he had sat at just minutes before, noting that her work had been restacked and secured firmly with an elastic band. Had he left? Snuck out while she’d been in the office? 

She then spotted his glasses folded neatly off to the corner of the table, and exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. So he was still here. In the bathroom maybe?  
Stealing a glance toward the restrooms, Max stifled her laughter as she snatched up the glasses off the table, unfolding the arms to examine them more closely. Though simple in design she could instantly tell that the pair were not cheap, and against her better judgment, slipped them on over her ears. They fit nicely, only slightly on the large side, and the brunette smiled a little giddily to herself. Rummaging through her bag she quickly drew from it her camera, holding the object up to snap a photo of herself for later observation, excited to find out how it turned out. She didn’t even know how she looked in his glasses—for all she knew she probably looked terrible. Although…

“There you go again Max, taking another selfie.”

Whipping around to face the man who had spoken just now Max stumbled, catching herself on the table behind as the imminent blush crept its way on to her face hotly. 

“M-Mr. Jefferson! U-um…”

His grin widened as he stared back at her, a laugh escaping between upturned lips. 

“Are those my glasses you’re wearing?”

“…I’m sorry…”

Max noticed the once-over he gave her, the way his de-spectacled eyes searched her face for something—just what exactly was he looking for? She had never seen the man without his glasses, and even now her sight was slightly hindered by the minor fuzziness the prescription caused around the edges of her vision. 

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, taking a step toward the girl, hands reaching up as he hooked a single finger beneath each arm, removing the glasses from her face at a painfully slow pace. They were back on his own face in an instant, any chance to really get to see his face without now gone. “In fact, they rather suited you.”

The warmth in her cheeks glowing even hotter Max averted her gaze, unable to look the man in the eye after he had given her what seemed to be a compliment. 

There were a few moments then where everything was silent, neither one of them speaking to fill the quiet, Max staring away out the windows, refusing to look back at him. When he spoke again, his voice was coarser than before.

“So I was looking through your shots,” he began softly, and Max braced to hear his final verdict, her body terse as she waited to hear what he had to say. “And quite honestly, I don’t see why you haven’t entered anything as of yet. Your work is gorgeous.”

Opening eyes she hadn’t realized she’d shut, Max blinked slowly, turning back to look up at him. His smile was genuine, and the muscles that had stiffened through her whole body began to relax. Feeling as though a small weight had been lifted from her shoulders the brunette sighed, feeling unexplainably relieved somehow.  
“You really think so?”

“Would I lie to you? Have a little more faith in your teacher,” and with a pause, “and yourself. The doubt you have in your mind is the only thing keeping you from the greatness you could achieve, Max. Don’t beat yourself up so much. There’s nothing stopping you from realizing your goals—you just have to let yourself reach out for them. Don’t be afraid to take risks when you need to.”

“O-okay…”

“However.”

And here it was. Glancing back at him Max waited uncertainly, wondering what it was he had to say now. Of course there was a ‘but’. There always was. 

“As your teacher I feel its my job to push you, to help you realize what you truly desire. And with that in mind.”

Max inhaled sharply as he closed much of the space between them, gripping the edge of the table pressing in to her thighs so tight her knuckles whitened. She stood frozen in place as the man leaned in to her, his body just inches from her own as arms made their way around her body, fingers brushing down her lower back as he felt for something behind her. Max couldn’t help the small breathy whimper that escaped her lips as his head ducked down a little to press beneath her hair and to her neck, his nose and mouth buried in the crook of her collar, breath hot against her skin as he exhaled. 

All too soon his body had disappeared from over her own, the heat she felt ebbing away as he stood back, his smile light, innocent. 

“I’ll be taking this for now.”

Eyes widening, Max noticed the undeveloped photo the man waved between his forefinger and thumb, jaw slackening as she realized what it was he had been aiming for the whole time.  
“Y-you can’t take that!”

“But I can.” He was having way too much fun with this, and the dizziness Max felt slowly morphed to anger, her embarrassment blatantly clear to see on her face. “If I deem something inappropriate, as your teacher it is my duty to confiscate it and protect my students.”

“B-but—”

“Max,” he waggled a finger at her, his grin widening. She wanted to punch him in the face. “No but’s. Maybe if you’re a good girl and you enter a photo for the contest, I might just think about giving this back to you.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Max stared needles at the man. 

“And what if I wanted to enter that photo?”

He chuckled lightly.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t allow that.”

“And why not?”

“You know why, Max.”

A hand thrust in to the pocket of his finely pressed suit-pants, Max could only watch on as her teacher sauntered his way out the café door, pausing at the tinkle it made to glance back at her over his shoulder.

“Enter a photo, Max. That’s all I’m asking. Do that, and the photo is yours. Otherwise I’ll have to keep it for myself.”

Before she could even open her mouth to protest the door had shut, and he was gone—disappearing down the sidewalk and away from the café.

Rooted to the spot, Max struggled to get the gears of her brain going, failing to move the cogs that allowed her to think rationally. And then it hit her.  
“That hipster bastard is blackmailing me!”

Gritting her teeth Max snatched up her camera, shoving everything in her bag before storming out of the store, backtracking to lock it after she realized she hadn’t. 

“I’ll show him an entry,” she muttered to herself as she stormed down the sidewalk, oblivious to the sleek black-grey car that sat across the other side of the road, of the man inside that watched her as she walked off headed for home. “I’ll wipe the grin off his silly hipster face, just you watch!”

The man smiled to himself as he watched her go, the photo he had snuck from her on the sly still in his hand. 

_You should have entered a photo, Max._


	2. Would you?

A few days had passed since their last spat, and quite frankly Max was starting to get confused. She had worked on and off after that Friday, and not once had that darned photography teacher of hers shown up. Plastering a fake smile on her face as she thanked their last customer for the day, the brunette sighed. Despite what had happened the last time he had been in, nothing had changed. He acted just the same in class as before—if anything he shot even _less_ attention her way. Was he seriously backing off now? After what he did to her? Bullshit.

On the better side of things, the cold-shoulder her boss had given her since first starting the job was beginning to thaw, and the woman actually _smiled_ her way when she walked in to start shift each day. 

“Max.”

Speak of the devil.

“You’re welcome to take a break tomorrow if you’d like—Wednesday’s are generally pretty quiet for us, so enjoy it. I’ll be wanting you back in Thursday and Friday to close up shop if you’re free.”  
“Okay. Thank you very much, ma’am.”

Grunting, the elderly woman hobbled her way out the front door, turning over the open sign on her way.

Giving the tables a final wipe-over and stacking the last of the chairs, Max ducked down behind the counter to grab her bag, though froze at the telltale sound of the front door bell. Had her boss forgotten something?

Just as Max was about to stand up, an unpleasantly familiar broke the silence within the small café. 

“What the fuck? I thought you said he’d definitely be here.”

“Chill Victoria, I know I saw him come in here the other day—maybe he just didn’t show today?”

A second voice. Was that Taylor?

“So what, you just expect me to keep coming all the way back here each and every fucking day in hopes he’ll eventually just show up? I know that selfie-whore works here. She probably only started this job because she knew he came in and wanted to suck up to him so he’d choose her photo for the Everyday Heroes Contest.”

“Well she has another thing coming for her if she thinks she can fuck with Victoria Chase, right?”

“Right. Now lets get out of here before someone else shows up to further ruin my day.”

“R-right.”

Holding her breath as the duo exited the way they’d come, Max waited a few moments longer before allowing herself to stand, knees popping painfully at having sat crouched for so long.  
So Victoria knew she worked here? 

Thoughts of the previous Friday came flashing back, and the brunette was gladder than ever that it seemed as though no one had caught them out. If Victoria or _literally_ anyone else from Blackwell had seen them…

Ripping her apron off and grabbing up her things, Max quickly left the café and headed back as quickly as her legs would take her, cautious of running in to the blonde ice queen or any of her faithful little minions all the way there. 

xxxxx

It was a good thing the elderly woman had given Max Wednesday off—it had been well over a week since she had last caught up for tea with Kate.

“So how is your new job going?”

“It’s…” Max took her time in stirring the sugar in to her tea, leaving the spoon to sink a moment as she looked up at Kate. The girl was smiling at her, waiting patiently for her response. “It’s good. My boss doesn’t seem to hate me as much as she did when I first started, so there’s that at least.”

“Max,” the other girl laughed a little, a hand going to cover her mouth femininely. “When you pause like that, it usually means there’s more you’re not telling me. Did something happen?”

“Well…” hesitating, Max wondered whether or not to tell Kate everything about what had been going on with Victoria and Mr. Jefferson as of lately. It’s not like she thought the other girl would go blabbing about this to anyone else, but…

“It’s nothing, Kate. The long hours just tire me out, is all.”

Max knew by the way the girl’s smile morphed a little that she didn’t believe a word she said, and the brunette was truly sorry for that. This was something she would keep to herself for now—she didn’t need to get anyone else involved in her own personal drama’s. 

The rest of the time they spent together passed in relative silence, light conversation picked up here and there between refills of the warm milky tea they drank, and soon enough it was time for Max to head back. 

“Same time next week?” 

“Of course. See you later, Max.”

“Bye Kate.” Waving her friend off, Max headed back to her dorm, ready to settle in for an evening of movies off the flash drive Warren had given her the day earlier. Just as she was about to cross the grass to the dorm building however, she was stopped dead in her tracks by the sight of Victoria standing with Nathan by the steps leading in to the dorm. Great. Absolutely fantastic. Backtracking a few steps, Max peered round the edge of the wall at the duo. What were they doing just standing there—were they waiting for someone? At the way Victoria stood with her arms folded across her chest, hip jutted out as she glanced around impatiently, Max could only assume who the blonde was looking for. 

…Even if she wasn’t working, she could stop by the café to kill some time before it closed, right? Right.

“Max, what are you doing here?”

The elderly woman looked up at her entrance, and Max waved sheepishly. 

“I didn’t have anything to do back on campus so I thought I’d come in for a visit. Have you been busy today?”

“Well actually…”

Unable to help herself, Max let her gaze sweep over the café, noting patrons both familiar and unfamiliar. When she didn’t find his face among them, an odd feeling of relief washed through her. Was she relieved that there was no possibility of him avoiding her, then? That he wasn’t just going out of his way to not show up when she was working? She couldn’t really be sure—her brain and conscious didn’t exactly get along all the time.

Just then she heard the tinkle of a bell, and at the sight of blonde hair, Max had moved behind the counter faster than she ever thought possible, crouched down as low as she possibly could, biting her lower lip fearfully.

What the fuck was Victoria doing here? Of all times, it had to be now, didn’t it?

“Maxine.”

Tensing at the stern way her full first name was spoken, the brunette glanced up to the elderly woman standing over her, a look of confusion on her face.   
“Please don’t let that blonde girl know I’m here, ma’am.”

“What, you kids fightin’ or something?”

“S-something like that…”

Heaving a sigh, the woman shook her head.

“Sneak out through the back if you really got to. And don’t be late tomorrow!”

“Yes! Thanks a lot ma’am, I’ll be on time I swear!”

_“Hmph.”_

Keeping low to the ground, Max snuck her way round the length of the counter to the door leading out back, thankful it had already been pushed slightly ajar so she could simply slip through without even having to move it, wasting no time in straightening up to run right to the door her boss had mentioned, glad that she had been paying attention on her first day when the elderly woman had showed her around the office.

The sun had fallen quiet low in the sky by now, and Max shivered at the chill that resonated through her thin body. From here she had to circle back round to the front of the café, and hope that by this point Victoria hadn’t decided to leave or turn to face the entrance. _Please,_ don’t turn to face the entrance. 

Sneaking around the side of the building Max ducked her head to see, thank God, that Victoria was facing away and had her phone out, probably texting one her satanic followers or something on their continuous failings. Poor them. 

Not wanting to stick around any longer, the brunette began to jog her way down the pathway, and was just about to turn the corner when she just happened to glance back—  
—To see that Victoria was standing outside the café staring right her way and _oh my fucking God Max run run run!_

And so she did.

Taking off down the crumbling pavement Max realized too late how stupid running had been, but by the now the blonde would either be running right after her or calling Nathan to help ambush a tired and downright defenseless Max wherever they managed to catch up with her. She also remembered that Nathan had a car—and Max…well, Max didn’t have a car. Which meant that if Nathan was on his way _right now…_

Having been caught up in her mess of a mind, Max didn’t see the sleek car that had pulled up just ahead of her, and with a start she stopped just a few steps before running smack-bam in to the passenger-side door. The window reeled down, revealing a familiar and all too welcome face.

“M-Mr. Jeffers—”

“Get in,” he ordered firmly, and she did not protest. Flinging the door open the girl jumped in, looking out to see that Victoria had not followed her. That was one heart attack avoided, at least. _For now._

Finally relaxing a little, Max slumped back in to the plush black of the car’s leather seats, taking in the pristine state of the car’s classy interior. Everything was…nice. Inhaling a little deeper than was strictly necessary, the brunette noted the smell of earth and spice—the smell of his usual cologne, as she’d come to realize after prolonged time in his immediate presence. There was another faint scent though that she couldn’t quite pinpoint…like a mixture of copper and smoke…did Mr. Jefferson smoke?

“So where too, Max?”

Jumping at the question that invaded her inner musings, Max turned to face the man. 

“U-um…”

“You were running pretty fast there, is everything alright? Your face looked a little scary.”

“H-how did you…?”

She didn’t notice the short pause before he answered. 

“…I happened to be around, saw you leg it down the path away from the coffee shop. I was worried something may have happened, so naturally I…”

Once again the brunette felt the heat rise to her cheeks at his words, wondering absentmindedly just what she’d have to do to stop this blush thing from constantly happening whenever he was around and so much as paid an ounce of ‘special attention’ to her. It was girly…and so not her. 

“You wanna tell me what, or _who_ you were running from?”

Playing with the zipper on her hoodie, Max averted her gaze, looking out the window rather than at him. She could feel his eyes on her back as he glanced her way, waiting for a response.  
“…I was running from Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Though the tone of his voice was questioning, he didn’t really sound all that surprised. Of course not. The hatred Victoria bore toward the brunette was literally tangible, everyone could see it. 

“Y-yeah…she’s been hanging around the café recently…I think she found out I work there, and she knows you come in all the time, so…I don’t know.”

“Ah.”

Stealing a peek his way, Max was a little surprised to see the almost sad smile on his face. Puzzled, she decided to keep quiet, not wanting to pry about why he was smiling that way. Maybe he was just upset about them fighting?

Suddenly, Max realized something she probably should have thought of ten minutes ago.

Just where were they going? It was quite dark now, the sun almost having entirely disappeared from the coming of the night sky, and although Max hadn’t been back in the bay all that long, she knew for a fact that they were most certainly not in an area she knew.

“Um…Mr. Jefferson, where are we—”

“You don’t want to run in to Victoria right now, do you?”

“Well no, but…” her head was spinning, and a strange sense of unease had begun to pool in the pit of the brunette’s stomach. Her conscious seemed to be trying to tell her something, but without being able to think straight, she couldn’t understand a word it was saying. 

Unable to form any words to speak, Max could do nothing but stay silent as they drove down in to what appeared to be Arcadia Bay’s junkyard, the car slowing to a stop a few meters before the piles of rubbish and waste began. She heard the turn of the keys in the ignition, heard the engine go off. He left the headlights on, and as he reached up overhead to flick more light switches, she flinched away. Of course he noticed. Mustering up her courage, Max spoke before the man even got a chance to open his mouth, not particularly wanting to hear what he had to say right now. She was frightened and he knew it.

“M…Mr. Jefferson, why are we out here? Victoria wont notice if I sneak back in to the dorms, she couldn’t possibly still be waiting—”  
“Just for a little while, Max. Thirty minutes. You can wait that long, right?”

Swallowing the lump that was beginning to form in the back of her throat, Max tried to think over in her scrambled mind her current situation. As of now, she was stuck in the car of a middle-aged male teacher, of who she was now seriously starting to think was more interested in her than he should be. I mean…she’d been a little obsessed over the guy ever since having first laid eyes on him in an online article, but _still…_ that was normal, right? A lot of girls at Blackwell were in to Mr. Jefferson—Victoria being practically the worst of them all! But for him to then go and show interest _back…_

“Look, Mr. Jefferson…I know you’re only looking out for me and all, and I really am grateful…but bringing a student out to an old junkyard alone in the middle of the night—if anyone saw us or heard about this—”

“Are you afraid?”

“…Afraid?”

His sudden question took her off guard, and Max scrambled for a way to answer that wouldn’t possibly offend him. Of course she didn’t want to think ill of the man she looked up to and respected so much, she wanted to be absolutely confident in the belief that he was doing this to be a ‘good teacher’ toward one of his students—that he would do the same thing for any one of them, but…

“If I’m being totally honest…yeah I am a little…”

“That’s perfectly understandable.”

Fiddling with a tuft of hair that refused to lie flat, the brunette tried to work out how to word her next question. Exhaling, she lowered the hand from her hair to her lap, fingers lacing together tightly as she looked at him. He’d leant his chair back a little, glasses pushed up on to his head and away from his face—just like how people with sunglasses wore them. Did he do that whenever he relaxed outside of class? He’d taken them off inside the café after everyone had left, too, when it had just been the two of them, just like it was now…

“Would you go this far to help someone else out?”

When he didn’t look her way or respond, she elaborated a little in hopes of prompting him to answer her. 

“Would you take the time outside of class to look through someone else’s work like that? Would you…drive them out and hide them from someone who was trying to hurt them, too…?”

Again he refused to answer, and Max sighed, dropping her gaze to her clenched palms, her tangled fingers, knuckles whitening as she gripped them tighter still. She felt him move beside her, and looking up she was shocked to see him now facing her, looking the brunette dead in the eyes. 

“…No.”

Against her will the girl smiled, lifting a hand to cover her mouth before he could see her reaction. Of course though, as before, he noticed. He always noticed. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, he would always notice. 

As his response buzzed fresh in her mind, Max found her body was not her own, and with little hesitation removed the hand from her mouth to reach up and pluck the spectacles from her teacher’s hair, looping them on to her own face again. Slightly too big as before they began to slip down the bridge of her nose, and looking up to gauge his reaction to her boldness, her cheeks flushed hot pink at his smile as he looked out over the headlights, a lazy look that seemed to tell her he hadn’t a single problem with what she had done. Smiling to herself again, the girl hooked her knees up under her chin, arms wrapping round her legs as she hugged herself tightly. All at once, she didn’t feel so scared anymore.

And then his phone rang.


	3. So it's a deal, then.

The vibration of his phone from atop the dash was abrupt and violent, and the brunette found herself near on jumping out of her skin as its obnoxious buzz resonated throughout the car.  
“Sorry,” he shot her an apologetic look, picking the phone up to swipe his thumb across its screen, bringing the device to his ear. “Give me a minute.”

The shift in his tone as he spoke those four words was alarming, and Max had to withhold the frown working its way on to her face as he looked back up at her, his other hand moving to cover the speaker on the phone. 

“Do you mind if I take this outside? Duty calls.”

“No problem.” Though she spoke lightly, her body felt heavy, thoughts sluggish as she processed the change yet again as he addressed her once more. Why when he spoke to her, did his voice sound so much warmer? The way he spoke to whoever it was on the other end of the call…Max could almost feel the temperature drop at the cold chill in his voice as he muttered quietly, watching as he slid quickly out of the car, not looking back at her as he closed the door behind him. 

He didn’t wander far, and with nothing else to do Max simply observed him as he spoke, curiosity burning dangerously hot as she watched his mouth in the dim light, wanting to know what he was saying. His expression was one of irritation, mouth turned down in to a rather deep grimace as he paced back and forth, free arm moving from his hip to his pocket in a fidgety manner. He was clearly uncomfortable talking to this person, and the longer the call dragged out, the angrier he seemed to get. 

Suddenly remembering the glasses still on her face, Max couldn’t help the small grin that crept on to her expression, realizing mischievously that this was the perfect opportunity to snap another picture for herself—while making sure that _this time_ he didn’t take it from her. Ducking down to dig her camera out, the brunette hurriedly positioned herself and lifted the camera in front of her face, smile tugging up a little as she snapped the photo. The flash was bright, too bright, and she winced at the few seconds blindness it rendered upon her. Blinking rapidly the girl waited impatiently for her sight to come back—

And nearly screamed when she saw him looming over the front of the car, eyes glued to her face, phone still pressed to his ear. His smile widened as she lowered her camera, and she watched him as his eyes followed it as she placed it gently back down in her bag. Lifting her hands back up to her lap, without any better way to react, the brunette waved. He did not wave back, but lifted his hand, mouth still moving as he spoke in to the phone. His fingers curled, his pinkie and ring fingers curling downward in to a fist held by his thumb, his index and middle fingers the only two remaining straight. What was that supposed to be? The sign for peace? 

A moment later and the man had lowered the phone from his ear, hitting the _end call_ button with another swipe of his thumb.

“Sorry that took so long,” he ducked back in to the car, gripping the steering wheel to swing himself in to his seat. “It’s probably okay for you to slip back on campus safely now. You ready to head back?”

“Y-yeah.”

The car hummed warmly as it was brought back to life at the turn of the key in the ignition, and he reversed back out of the junkyard slowly, bringing them back on to the road and out from under the darkened undergrowth.

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Max let her gaze wander from the window to her teacher’s profile as he drove, focused on the road ahead. He really was quite attractive. For a middle-aged man who just happed to be her teacher, that is. If he noticed her looking, the man never said anything about it.

Pulling up in to the car park, the engine was shut off yet again, this time the lights following shortly after. There was a moment of silence as they sat there, just sat there quietly in the dark, the sounds of breath, hers quickened, his steady, the only thing to be heard within the quiet of the car.

Reaching up to play with a strand of her hair, Max gasped as she realized she still had his glasses on. She had forgotten they were ever even there, now used to the little extra weight along the bridge of her nose, the feeling of them tucked behind her ears. 

“O-oh…um, I still have your glasses, Mr. Jefferson…did you want them back?”

He laughed at this, glancing sidelong at the brunette. There was something strange in the way he looked at her then, a brief flash of something in his eyes that Max couldn’t quite comprehend, though before she could even try to it had disappeared and he was looking away again. 

“Yes Maxine, I’ll be needing my glasses now if you’re leaving.” 

He said it as though she had a choice. If she did, maybe she’d have liked to sit here a while longer. The silence was comfortable, made better by his presence.   
His use of her full name irked her though, and she shot a look of disdain his way. 

“ _Max_ ,” she corrected him, folding her arms across her chest huffily. “ _Never_ Maxine. The only ones that can get away with using my full name are my parents and my boss.”

“So fiery,” he chuckled, and this just seemed to irritate her more. Why did he feel the need to do this? Granted she’d been scared out of her mind earlier, she thought she could actually end this night happily, but he clearly was now set on ruining that. “I’m a teacher, Max. Not to mention twenty-eight years your senior. Quite frankly, I can call you whatever I want.”

 _Ugh_. As if she needed a reminder of that age gap. _Yeouch_. What’s wrong with your head, Max?

“W-well yeah, but…but that doesn’t mean you _should_ call me that. You know how much I hate it…you’re just doing it to piss me off.”

“Well then by all means, stop me if you really despise it that much… _Maxi—”_

Her body reacted before her mind could catch up and stop her, and by the time Max realized she’d slid over the center-console in the car and slapped a hand over his mouth, it was too late.   
His eyes watched her listlessly as her brain caught up with her actions, and once it finally did, she began to sputter, eyes widening to the size of golf balls.

“Mr. Jefferson I am _so sorry_ , I don’t know what happened I just— _ouch!”_

Hand flying back off his face, Max glanced between it and him, looking back and forth multiple times before settling on just staring at him.

“D-did you just…bite me?”

“I’ll do it again if you don’t start behaving, Max. I’ve let you off with a warning tonight, but next time…”

Not even bothering to conceal the blush that plastered itself across her face, Max turned her head away, clutching the finger that still stung a little as she held it tightly, so tight it began to turn purple. 

“…I’m sorry, that was rather rude of me.”

His apology took her by surprise, and she shifted just a little to look back at him. The look on his face was sincere, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. The embarrassment she felt was projected in his eyes, and to know he looked just as self-conscious as she felt, made her feel a little better.

“Does it hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Where I bit you.”

“O-oh…not really.”

Sighing, he crunched his eyes shut, pressing his fingers to his temples. He appeared…perplexed?

“I’ll make it up to you somehow, okay? Just…you should probably get going.” _Before something else happens and this really gets out of hand._

“Okay…”

“That’s a good girl.”

Grabbing her bag, Max opened the car door and stepped out, going to close it behind her before his arm shot out to stop it from shutting. 

“Max,” he whispered, and she turned back, surprised. 

“Yeah?”

His smile was soft, amused. 

“My glasses, Max. You’re still wearing them.”

“O-oh!” Taking them off quickly, the brunette folded and placed the spectacles carefully in to his open hand, noticing the way his fingers curled as they brushed hers, almost as though to hold her in place, to keep her from leaving. _Nah._ She was just imagining it.

“Well…I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Good night, Max.”

“G-good night, sir…”

With a final wave he had driven off, and Max headed for the dorms for a second time that day.

Thankfully there was no one waiting for her at the steps, and no one around the corridors either. People had either locked themselves in their rooms, or were off using up precious the hot water Max had get to get a taste of for the night. 

Flopping down on to her bed with a sigh, Max suddenly found herself incredibly tired.

“I’ll shower in the morning,” she yawned to herself, tugging at her laces and kicking off her shoes before getting changed quickly, ripping back the covers to hop straight in to bed.  
Showers could wait until morning…by then there’d be more hot water for her to waste, anyway…

As she drifted off in to a heavy, dreamless sleep, Max didn’t see the shadow of a figure that passed by her bed, didn’t hear the rustling of hands digging in to her bag, didn’t smell the scent of a comfortably familiar cologne. She didn’t feel the fingers that brushed her cheek lightly, fingers that traced their way down her collarbone to her shoulder. 

She didn’t see the smile on his face as he left, or the undeveloped photograph he had tucked neatly in to his breast pocket. 

“I can’t believe this!”

Tossing her bag at her bed (thankfully she’d placed her camera on her desk beforehand), Max began to pace the small length of her room. At some point during the night or early that morning, the second photograph she’d taken of herself in Jefferson’s glasses had mysteriously vanished. She’d searched high and low for it, but the only place it could have possibly been was her bag—she’d never taken it out the night before. But if it really was gone, could that mean…

Her pacing slowed, and the brunette glanced down at her hand—the one she’d had over the teachers mouth the night before. The bite had not been enough to draw blood, but enough to bruise. Feeling self conscious, Max felt she had no choice but to cover the mark with a Band-Aid. 

_He couldn’t have…_

No, that was impossible. There was no way the man had snuck in to her room after she’d come back—Max saw him drive away. There was no way he would have…

Swallowing around the lump that had begun to form in her throat, Max decided to leave the matter for later questioning, realizing with a glance at her bedside clock that she’d be late if she didn’t start getting ready like, _right now._

Grabbing up her toiletries and a fresh change of clothes, Max headed for the bathroom.

And was stopped dead in her tracks by an unwelcomingly familiar blonde. 

“Victoria,” she sighed, knowing there was absolutely no way for her to have avoided this collision forever, and that it was time to face the music. “Did you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes I do.” Arms folding across her chest, Victoria glanced down the hallway, seemingly searching for something. Max followed her gaze, seeing that they were the only two out at the moment. Odd.

Ready for the onslaught of insults and death threats, Max braced for impact.

“I need your help.”

_…Huh?_

“What?” Of all the things Max expected to hear, a plea for help was certainly not one of them. Just what was this about, exactly?

The blonde’s expression twisted angrily.

“Are you deaf? I said I need your help, what part of that do you not understand—”

“No, no I heard you, I’m just seriously confused right now…why?”

“Why do I need your help?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Because,” Victoria sighed, eyes dropping to her shoes. She appeared to be struggling with this, the mere thought of asking someone like _Max_ for help. The brunette could empathize with this. “Because you’re the only one who can help me out in this situation. Okay?”

“O-oh…okay.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So are you going to help me or not?”

Max raised an eyebrow. The blonde was acting oddly rushed, she seemed almost nervous about something…the brunette wondered why, but didn’t ask in fear of angering her further.  
“Can you please explain to me what it is you want me to do first? I can’t say yes if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Alright. We don’t have much time, so I’ll get right to it. I want you to help me get a job at that little café you work at.”

“Why?” Max knew why, but she wanted to hear it for herself.

“You know why.”

“Victoria.”

“Ugh, fine. You are so nosy. It’s to get more time with Mark—Mr. Jefferson, that is. Working at that stupid coffee shop seemed to work for you, so it has to work for me, right?”

“Uh, maybe.”

“What?” Victoria shot her a look. “You don’t think it’ll work?”

“I can’t just get you a job, I’ve only been working a few weeks myself!”

“Then you won’t help me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Max sighed. This was going to get very frustrating very quickly. “Look—no promises right now, but I’ll try, okay?”

“Really?” the smile was gone quicker than it had appeared, and Victoria swiveled on the spot. Max couldn’t help but grin at this. Was Victoria really that embarrassed to show any positivity toward her? Wow. “I mean, good. You’d better.”

_“But…”_

The blonde froze.

“In return, can you please stop being so bitchy to me? I don’t know what I ever did to you but it really grates on the nerves, you know?”

Seeming to think it over a moment, Victoria turned back to face her with a sigh.

“Just so we’re clear on this, I don’t hate you. You’re just…”

“Nosy?”

“A threat,” the blonde corrected her. This took Max by surprise. Did Victoria really see her as a threat? A threat to what, exactly? Her relationship with Mr. Jefferson? Her chances in the Everyday Heroes Contest? A mixture of the two? “I see you as a threat. The art world is harsh, and right now you’re the best amateur photographer in the school I know of. But that doesn’t mean I like you.”

“You don’t have to,” Max shrugged. “Just don’t go out of your way to knock me down.”

“I’ll try,” Victoria grit her teeth, holding a hand to her forehead. “So we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, holding out her hand between them. “I guess so.”

Hesitantly, the blonde took her hand in her own, giving it a firm shake before letting go completely, heading off down the hall.

“I expect results soon!”

Shaking her head, Max turned her attention back to the matter at hand: deliciously hot water.

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the brunette walked in to class fifteen minutes later, she didn’t expect to see Nathan waiting around at the door. 

“You,” he sneered, and Max stopped in her tracks, gripping the strap of her bag tightly. 

“Me?”

“Yeah you,” he continued, taking a threatening step toward her. Holding her ground, Max bit her cheek nervously. He wouldn’t attack her out in public with all these people around, right? Right? “Stay the fuck away from Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Max raised an eyebrow. “What business is it of yours whether I talk to Victoria or not?”

“Then she already…” the boy looked away, seeming to think something over a minute. “Dammit,” he swore, looking back up to glare at her. “Why the fuck did you have to stick your ugly fucking nose in where it didn’t belong, huh? Victoria doesn’t need your help, she doesn’t—”

“Something the matter here, kids?”

Max jumped at the sudden intrusion of a third voice. Looking up, she was unsurprised to see Mr. Jefferson standing over them, arms folding across his chest in a show of intimidation. Grumbling under his breath, Nathan shot the brunette one last glare before storming down the corridor, hands thrust in his pockets as he shoved and elbowed people from his path. 

“M-Mr. Jefferson…”

“Good morning, Max. Did something happen that I should be worrying about?”

Ignoring the prying tone in his voice, Max shook her head quickly. She just wanted to head inside and sit down, melting in to the shadows in back of the room like she always did. She didn’t want to do this right now.

“No. Nathan was just…telling me about something.”

“Something?”

“It’s nothing,” she confirmed, and though he appeared dissatisfied with her answer, he did not drill her any further. Gesturing for her to head inside, Max did so without any hesitation, rushing over to sit in her seat, keeping her head down. A few moments later, Victoria entered the classroom, shooting her an almost friendly look. It was daunting.

As Mr. Jefferson talked on about this and that, Max found herself unable to concentrate. Cheek pressed in to her palm, the brunette settled on staring out the window, watching the greying clouds that began to form in the darkened morning sky. It looked like rain was coming. Glancing down, the brunette frowned as she saw what was drawn on a blank page of her open notebook. An inky black spiral sat pressed in to the bottom left corner of her page, a spiral that certainly hadn’t been there when she’d first opened her book. She certainly didn’t remember doing that. Yet upon rubbing a finger across the paper, she found that it smudged—meaning it had to have been done just moments ago. Had she been so zoned out she hadn’t noticed doing it? It really was odd. 

“And what was your response to this particular reading, Max?”

Jumping at her name, Max looked up to Mr. Jefferson, who now stood over her. Glancing around, she was thankful to see most others writing away in their own notebooks, not paying any particular attention to the fact that the brunette had just been called out. Victoria, from the corner of her eye, lifted a book up and waved it, and Max then realized what she had just been asked.   
“O-oh! I found chapter two kind of interesting, especially the part where…”

Sending a thankful smile in Victoria’s direction, the blonde simply shook her head before returning back to her own work. She had said just earlier on that she didn’t like Max, but…was that entirely true? Helping her out in a pinch certainly was going further than being ‘less bitchy’, as Max had requested. 

At the smile Mr. Jefferson gave her once she had finished her explanation, Max ducked her head, rubbing her taped finger absentmindedly. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	4. Rain

So as it turned out, convincing Max’s boss of their need for more staff was the easy step. And the hard part? Convincing her that they were in need of _specific_ staff…that specific being a certain pushy blonde, of who at this very moment, sat drinking a frappé at the table nearest to the counter within the café.

“So how often does he come in?” She asked between slurps. It was her second refill in the last few hours she’d been here, and quite honestly, Max was baffled as to how the girl hadn’t needed to use the bathroom at least five times by now. A bladder of steel, methinks.

“I told you already, he comes in a few times a week—it really depends on how busy he is and what mood he’s in,” the brunette answered after a few moments, having had to direct her attention away to serve another customer. She had become rather distracted talking to Victoria while bustling about, and at the look her boss shot their way now and then, Max was sure to appear as though she were working just that little bit harder. She was supposed to be helping Victoria secure a job, not lose her own.

“What do you mean what mood he’s in?”

Always picking at the small details. Sigh.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, drying out a teacup with the hand towel she kept thrown over her shoulder. “Usually he comes in when he’s in a good mood. I guess maybe he’s the kind of person that likes to be alone when he’s feeling shitty, and likes to be around others when he’s not?”

The blonde seemed to mule this over for a time, her lips sealed over the straw of her drink, taking cautionary sips now and then between thoughts.

In between working Max continued to chat with Victoria, but eventually the girl left and it grew close to closing time. Just as she had begun stacking unoccupied chairs, the brunette was approached by her boss. The elderly woman wore a serious expression on her face, and Max swallowed nervously.

“Hey, boss…did I do something wrong?”

The woman simply shook her head, glancing to the entryway, watching as a couple exited with a tinkle of the bell overhead.

“Tell me, Max…why does that girl want to work here?”

Her somber tone confused Max, and she lowered the chair she had lifted to place over the table she stood at. Why was she being so serious? It hadn’t been so hard for _her_ to secure a job here, and the woman had certainly never asked Max why she’d wanted to work with such a tone.

“She…she needs the money.”

“Money?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Hmph,” the woman folded her arms over her chest, creasing her smoothly ironed apron in the process. “Her choice in attire certainly doesn’t make it seem that way. She looks richer than your average Arcadian girl. So what is it really?”

“No,” Max held her hands up defensively, putting as much effort as she possibly could in to not stuttering. She was a terrible liar and she knew it – but what she knew even clearer than that was that this was her chance. If she couldn’t convince the older woman to hire Victoria now, she doubted she’d get another opportunity like this to do so again.

“You see, her family got in to a lot of trouble recently and have had to sell up a lot of what they own—but Victoria’s too embarrassed to let anyone know it, so she wears what little she has left whenever she’s out…she wants to work to help them out in paying for her tuition at Blackwell—it means so much to the both of them that she’s at school here in Arcadia…”

Realizing just how ridiculously stupid her excuse sounded, Max waited for her boss to laugh in her face, to tell her what a terrible liar she was—to say _something_.

“…I see.”

Confused by the simple response, Max searched the older woman’s face, looking for some indication as to what she believed and disbelieved at this very moment. She remained stone-faced however, and as she turned Max was hit with the realization that she did not believe her.

_I’m sorry, Victoria. I tried._

Turning back to her work, Max heard the tinkle of the overhead bell as the last customer left the shop.

“Tell this girl to bring her resume and details in for me by lunchtime tomorrow. I have the afternoon off, I can do her interview then and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

 _Oh_.

“T-thank you Ma’am! I’ll let her know, she’ll be so—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Her tone was harsh, but Max did not miss the smile on the woman’s face as she exited the store. “See you tomorrow, Max.”

 

Back on campus, the first thing Max did was head straight for the dorms and take a sharp U-turn in through Victoria’s door.

“Hey Victoria, you’re not gonna believe—”

“Fuck!”

The yell had not come from the blonde girl sat on the bed, but from the boy now sprawled all over the carpet, rubbing his elbow as he glared daggers at her viciously. What? She hadn’t been the one to push him on to the floor—what did _she_ do?

“What the _fuck_ Max, the hell are you doing here?!”

“Um,” Max floundered, caught between looking to Victoria for help, apologizing profusely, and dashing straight out the door and pretending the whole thing had never happened. The choice was made for her however as the blonde girl stood, hand moving to rest on her jutted hip. Max wondered to the back of her mind as to whether Victoria could even stand upright without thrusting her elbow out to have her hand sit at her middle.

“It’s okay, Nathan. I asked her to stop by—but didn’t realize she’d be so early.” At this the blonde shot her a borderline irate look, to which Max replied mouthing the word _‘sorry’_.

The boy seemed to recognize the situation, his grimace deepening impossibly as he glared between the two.

“Whatever.”

Max caught the almost inaudible sliver of hurt in his voice as he skulked past her, and certainly did not miss the look of pure, unadulterated hatred he sent her way before disappearing down the corridor.

“Shit,” Victoria sighed. Max turned back to face her, noticing the way she rubbed her forehead just as she last time. It had to be a tic.

“I-I’m sorry…”

The saddened look she wore shifted in to something a little angrier, and the blonde slumped back down to sit atop her bed quilt once more.

“No,” she shook her head after a beat. “Don’t worry about it. Nathan is…going through some serious shit right now.”

All Max could manage was an “oh,” having little else to really say on the matter. Though the boy had never done anything particularly bad toward Max herself, she still did not like him—though knew well enough to hold her tongue both for her own and Victoria’s sake.

“So I’m hoping you’ve come bearing good news for me?”

An, now _there_ was the queen Max knew and…borderline got along with? Yeah, let’s go with that.

“You bet,” Max confirmed, explaining as best she could what had transpired back at the café as Victoria stood, listening incredulously. At the smile she gave as Max finished however, the girl knew she’d done good. By Victoria, in the least.

“As totally relieved as I am, I still can’t believe you made up a story like that…no money, really? She’s going to think I’m some poor girl with a bankrupt family or something now.”

“Hey she put me on the spot, I didn’t know what else to say. I got you the interview didn’t I?”

“That’s true,” Victoria sighed. “Thanks for that…I guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens from here, then.”

“Yeah…” not wanting to hang around for any longer than need be, Max took her opportunity to escape. “So I’ll see you around, then. At work?”

“I suppose,” the blonde gave her a quick smile, before moving to her desk to sit down. “We can talk more about it tomorrow, Max.”

“Okay.”

 

Max instantly knew that securing an interview meant Victoria had the job. And oddly enough, she was surprisingly good at it. Her flippancy extended no further past the inhabitants of Blackwell, all smiles and chatter with patrons as they ordered and paid by the counter, and she really was quiet pleasant when need be.

Two or so hours in to the shift, Max looked up at the tinkling of the doorbell to see none other than Mr. Jefferson walk through, his eyes immediately coming to rest upon her. The smile that begun to form upon his lips disappeared immediately however, as brown eyes gazed across at the blonde now standing beside Max. An odd look of displeasure washed over his expression, though lasted just a moment before a rather forced looking smile took its place. Max suddenly got the feeling that she’d fucked up…why was that exactly?

Gone from the brunette’s side in an instant, Victoria had flitted out on to the floor and was headed straight for the teacher as he sat down, pen and paper out as she asked for his order. Max knew his order by heart of course—a café latte with just a single sugar, and he always waited a few minutes for it to cool before drinking, just sitting and stirring it round with a spoon, zoning out and thinking about whatever it was that Mark Jefferson thought about.

Not that anyone else needed to know she knew this in such in detail.

As it was her first day on the job Victoria had yet to be taught how to properly use the coffee-making machinery, and so it was left up to Max to make and serve Jefferson’s order while the blonde (albeit grudgingly) busied herself chatting up an elderly couple as they came to the counter to pay.

The teacher looked up at Max’s approach, his expression tight. Raising an eyebrow, she took her time in placing his coffee on the table, hovering, waiting for him to ask whatever question it was that lingered on his lips at this moment.

“And how did _Victoria_ manage to secure a position here, Max?” her name was said with particular venom, and the brunette was thrown by the clear cut irritation in his tone. Was he…mad? Would he be madder if he knew she’d been the one to help Victoria in getting this job?

“U-um…” she floundered, not knowing what to say. Lies may have worked on her boss, but Max knew they would not work on him—and worst of all, so did he. “She wanted a job, and I guess that’s probably why she was harassing me in the first place…I just asked my boss about it—I really only asked if we had any position’s free—so”

“Max,” the man interrupted, and Max realized she began to ramble. Shit. Nice composure, Max. Real smooth. “Slow down. You don’t have to go in to such detail, I was just curious…”

“Oh…r-right. My bad.”

His smile was amused, and with a slight blush threatening to work its way on to her cheeks, Max returned to her place behind the counter as Victoria took to the floor once again, likely in hopes of getting the chance to talk with Mr. Jefferson again.

The man did not stay much longer however, and Max watched, mystified, as he left after just a single cup of coffee. Never in the entire time Max had been working had the man ever not ordered at least two cups of his favorite brew—why would he leave after just one now? Could it be because Victoria was here…? Did he really want to avoid her that badly? Max was reminded of how the man had saved her from Victoria’s wrath just the other day, and a feeling of guilt rushed up upon her all at once. This was her fault. She’d been the one to help Victoria in getting this job, and in doing so, had angered Mr. Jefferson. But what exactly about it had made him so angry?

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from frowning at the curious look Victoria shot Max’s way, the brunette just hoped that the man would return tomorrow, so that she could get some serious answers out of him.

 

Thankfully, Victoria had the next day off—her first shift a ‘final test’ of sorts before she could become a fully-fledged employee.

Manning the counter, Max bounced nervously on her heels, her head whipping up at every tinkle of the doorbell—though she was disappointed each and every time by the face of a stranger. It continued on like this for the next three hours, and by this point Max had begun to give up. The store was particularly quiet today, the weather having taken a turn for the worst. Though the skies had stayed mostly clear, the darkening clouds looming on the horizon did not go unnoticed by the brunette.

Caught up in pleading with the sky to not open up with rain the minute her shift ended, Max did not hear or see the front door open as her next customer walked through—until he was standing right in front of her.

“Hello, Max.”

Her elbow slipped from the tabletop, neck jolting painfully as her chin fell from the palm it had been propped up in just a moment ago.

“M-Mr. Jefferson!”

Though he stood before her, the man seemed unfocused. Max watched as he glanced around edgily, leaning a little to steal a peek behind her.

“Um…?”

“Is Victoria in today?”

Opening her mouth to answer on impulse, Max was hit with a sudden realization.

Oh.

“You…” at the shift in her tone, his brown eyes were back on her in an instant. “You’re avoiding her.”

“When is she working next?”

“ _And_ you’re trying to find out her roster so you can come in when she’s not around.”

He glared, and that was all the confirmation Max needed. A part of her wanted to laugh at this, to make fun of the man and his utter dislike of the blonde, but another more dominant part of her simply wanted to know _why._

Of course, the girl was a force to be reckoned with—she was unafraid to step on and use anyone to get to where she needed to be—hell, in accepting to help her Max had likely been used as well. She knew that, but she’d helped anyway. There was also the way she acted around Mr. Jefferson too, like she had some sort of _claim_ on the teacher.

“Let me ask you this, Maxine.”

She ground her teeth. _Again with the full name._ He knew just how nettled that got her.

“What would you do in my place?”

A good question, and one of which she did not know the correct answer to.

“You asked when she was working again…” Biting her lip, Max was unsure as to whether to finish her sentence. Just who’s side was she on here? She couldn’t be on both. But what was she supposed to do? Abide by her teacher’s wishes, or help out the girl who’d been nothing but a bitch to her up until this point.

Well, when you put it that way.

“She’s not working again for another few days. My boss is still processing her interview and resume and all that, it won’t be a while before she works again. Probably not until next week Wednesday—she’ll give her quiet shifts to begin with.”

His breath of relief was very much audible, and Max couldn’t help but smile. It appeared as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as his body visibly relaxed, and Max was relieved herself by this. If there was anything in particular Max hated, it was to see others unnecessarily bothered. A little like she felt at times, actually.

Her attention was brought back to him as he shifted all of a sudden, arms lifting to rest upon the counter. As one arm lay across the tabletop, he propped the other up at the elbow so as to drag deftly long fingers through his lightly tousled hair, and _wow_ if you looked up the definition of sexy in a dictionary, this exact image of one mister Mark Jefferson would pop up next to it. Shit, where did that come from? _Down_ , Max! _Bad_ Max!

“So,” he drawled, and she could swear to the gods he was doing this on purpose. He had to be. As if reading her mess of a mind, he dropped his pitch an octave lower. “…Has it been on your mind?”

“U-um,” she stuttered nervously, hands searching at waist-height for something to grip at. She settled for the cash register. “Has _what_ been on my mind, sir?” Sir? What the hell was this even. Don’t turn to melting butter now, Max, you’re a solid. Start acting like one.

Beckoning her closer with a crook of his index finger, Max could not help but do as she was told, leaning in over the counter to feel his lips ghost across the shell of her ear, causing her to tremble inexorably.

“The Everyday Heroes contest, Max.”

“Oh my God,” she jerked back, thankful for the steady grip she still had on the cash register. Her palms now itched with the unyielding urge to slap the man senseless.

“Oh come on,” he smirked, and Max glared daggers at his smugness at having lured her in like that. “I haven’t mentioned it in a while, have I? Tell me I’m not hunting down a lost cause here, hm?”

Decidedly ignoring his choice to use the word _hunt_ in this particular situation, Max rolled her eyes at the brunette teacher, hand sliding to her jutted hip. What could she say, irritation made her sassy.

“Well…” thinking seriously about it now, Max realized it was actually rather good of him to have brought it up again. She hadn’t spent anywhere near as much time snapping photo’s as of late, her last few having been foiled attempts at snagging a photograph of herself in Mr. Jefferson’s glasses. Speaking of, she’d been spending a _lot_ more time with her teacher as of late. More than she probably should have, in the least…

“I’m working on it.”

The best she could give at that point, Mr. Jefferson nodded, knowing it was the only conventional response the girl could give without making something up.

He settled in his usual spot a few moments later, and the rest of her shift passed without any further hitches.

Until the rain hit.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Max moaned as she stepped out in to the whipping winds, still sheltered by the overhang of the café’s roofing. So much for prayers. Looks like the rain gods had ignored her at the most inconvenient of times, _yet again_. Taking one step out in to the pouring rain now would mean an instant drenching, and right now, Max really couldn’t afford to get sick. Besides, she was wearing her favorite shirt.

“Oh my.”

Turning at the sound of the voice, Max realized with a start that Jefferson had not left the café until just now, almost as though he had been waiting for her to finish, following right out after her the moment she left…nah…

“It’s really pouring, huh?”

She grumbled darkly.

“Need a lift?”

Halting at this, Max turned her whole body to face the man. His expression was one of inviting warmth, and right at this moment, was looking far more appealing than the sprint to the bus stop a few blocks up the road.

Luckily for them he had been wise enough to park his car just a few paces from the café doorway, though being out in the weather for just the smallest of moments still meant that by the time the duo had jumped in the car and slammed the doors, both were very much wet.

“Dammit,” Max sighed, shrugging out of her jacket to drop it on the floor by her feet and satchel, leaning down to check see that her camera was okay.

“I can’t believe how hard it’s coming down,” he seemed to agree with her curses, and the brunette glanced up at the sound of fabric rubbing against the leather car seats, almost laughing as she watched him struggle to remove his soaking outer-layers.

“Here,” she offered him a hand, reaching out to tug at the collar of his blazer, pulling it from his shoulders with ease. Throwing it over his shoulder on to the back seats, the teacher exhaled breathily, one hand lifting to push his slicked hair back while the other went to undoing a button of his shirt, black today, as Max noted.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and the brunette was a little taken aback at his selection of words, or well, _word_ , wondering what had him acting so uptight all of a sudden.

“Was that an expensive jacket?” she tried, and he lifted his head from his hand, staring down at her. At the smile that slowly made its way on to his face, Max couldn’t stop the hot blush that reddened her cheeks and ears, and turned her head away to look out the window, hoping that he would pull out and start driving soon.

_The way he looked right now…it was so—_

The whir of the engine was music to her ears, and the drive back was quiet, save for the spattering onslaught of the rain against the car and windows. Tracing her finger along the glass absentmindedly, Max found herself, so caught up in a daze, drawing the same whirling vortex as the one in her notebook.

“Are you drawing on the windows?”

At the stern, teacherly tone in his voice, Max quickly rubbed away any evidence of such actions.

“No,” she chirped a little too brightly, and did not fail to notice the sideways glare he sent jokingly her way.

As they neared the school campus however the wind and rain began to pick up, impossibly so, so much that the girl felt the car shudder around them, bowing under the weight of the pounding rain and sweeping gusts.

“Um,” she began nervously, touching a hand to the window, watching with growing fear as the car began to pull distinctively to one side, despite the fact that they were still driving down a relatively straight fork in the road. “Mr. Jefferson?”

When he did not answer, she looked up to ask him again.

And screamed when she saw the spiraling hurricane surging right toward them at devastating speeds.

Making a grab for the wheel she did not hear as he protested, did not feel nor relent to the hands that made attempts to pry her away from the steering wheel as she clenched her eyes shut, everything turning black in an instant.

Sounds began to blur, morphing in to complete inaudibility, impossible to understand nor comprehend as black turned to pink, splotching her vision like sponge paint to a white canvas.

“…ax…Max…”

_What…was someone calling her name?_

“…are you…ay…?”

_Was that Mr. Jefferson?_

She felt something shake her, felt warmth through what she believed were her arms before the voice spoke again.

“ax…Max…MAXINE!”

Eyes flying open in an instant, Max gasped for air, her throat dry and scratchy as she tried to speak, only managing to cough instead.

His face was close, hands on her shoulders as she realized that he had indeed been shaking her.

“Are you okay?” he asked for what was likely the hundredth time, given the sheer panic in his eyes and the breathless way he spoke to her.

“I-I…”

“Max, tell me what happened, now.”

“The storm,” she whispered, unable to look at his worrying face as her head dropped, finding her fingers clutched white-knuckled at the material of his shirt. “I saw a storm…a-a twister—it was headed right for the car.”

“Max…” his voice was disbelieving. Lifting her head slightly to glance around, the brunette saw that not only was there no hurricane headed straight for them, but the rain itself had calmed, a mere drizzle in the clearing skies, giving way to the orange-pink light of the lowering sun. They were pulled over on the side of the road, both seatbelts undone to allow movement as he leaned across the center-console with hands still pressing almost painfully in to her shoulders.

“You just started screaming all of a sudden, I had no idea what had happened, and then you grabbed the steering wheel and—”

“Oh my god,” she murmured, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. She then noticed that within the midst of her panic she had not only wrangled him down by his shirt, but had popped a button or two in the process.

Whispering an apology she leaned in to him, forehead pressed to his chest as she attempted to calm herself, shaking under the trauma at what she’d just seen.

 _Just what the fuck_ had _that been…?_

Releasing her left shoulder, Max felt as fingers pressed gently to her collar, her neck, tangling in the hair at her nape as his other hand rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. Though his fingers are cold, icy even, the feeling is calming, and the brunette soon finds herself well enough to lift her head to look at him again. About to say something, she is cut of by the proximity—or lack thereof—of his face to hers. Dark brown eyes stare intensively in to her own, locking her in place, her body so frozen up she can’t even flinch away as he tilts his head down just a little, allowing their foreheads to press together, noses almost touching, mouths just inches apart.

“You’re burning up,” he comments, almost sounding amused. She feels the feather-light breath of a laugh and it tickles her face, smelling wonderfully of spearmint against her lips, invading every one of her senses all at once.

She didn’t know who it was that began to move first, but before she could even comprehend the situation she’d gotten herself in to, their lips were brushing, just the slightest of touches, and she watched as his eyelids lowered, still staring back at her with just as much intensity as before—

And she screams for the second time that afternoon at the blaring of a trucker’s horn, the hulking vehicle roaring past on the wet slicked road just a few meters from where they had pulled off.

“I-I…” looking anywhere but his face, Max realized with a start that it was no longer raining, the skies all but clear of a few lingering spatters of grey. “I’m going to walk the rest of the way.”

He does not answer at first, and she does not wait on it as she grabs up her things, shrugging in to her still wet jacket, slinging her satchel over her shoulder. It is only as the door opens that he responds, albeit barely.

“Sure.”

His voice is cold, flat—devoid of any emotion whatsoever. Though Max had spent much of her life second guessing her decisions and asking herself if she’d done the right thing—she knew that in this very moment, she could not have been surer of the choice she’d made.

She had to walk away.

And so she did.

Crossing the road the start up the path, she steeled her resolve as she walked on, not allowing herself a single glance behind. He never did pass her though, his car missing from the teacher’s car park as she walked up on to the campus.  

She never did see the way his face contorted as he watched her walk away, the way his hands bunched up angrily in to fists, nor the way they slammed in to the steering wheel before ending up back in his hair. Glasses discarded on the seat beside him his breath was heavy, ragged as he watched her disappear down the road.

“It’s coming…”

 


	5. Beach Part I

Cold.

Back pressed to the wall, she hugged the stuffed bear in her arms a little more tightly.

She was cold.

Her mind was buzzed, body sore from sitting so long in the same position, and blinking was a task as she dragged her lids open and closed.

Having been up all night thinking about what had transpired the day before, Max had gotten no sleep, nor had she acquired any answers to the questions she had asked of herself over and over throughout the past few hours.

An abrupt sound invaded her thought space, and it took a groggy moment for the brunette to recognize the buzz of her phone on her bedside table.

Reaching over stiffly to pick it up, she didn’t bother checking the name of the caller before answering, murmuring a scratchy-voiced “yes?” as ways of response.

“Yo, Max Power!” Warren. She sighed. “Did I wake you up? It’s already ten in the morning, how can you be sleeping the weekend away already?”

“Can I help you?” she got straight to the point, and if she’d have cared more in that moment, the hurt in his voice would have left her guilty.

“Y-yeah…well, me, Brooke, Alyssa and Kate were gonna head down to the beach today—enjoy the nice weather while it lasts—I thought maybe you’d want to come?”

Wracking her mind for a good excuse to decline, Max brushed a hand over her tired eyes, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Doesn’t Kate have church today?”

“Nice try, Max. She’s gonna meet up with us later when she’s done.”

Dammit.

Really though, what else did she have to do today? She couldn’t just sit around in the dark waiting for things to get better on their own.

“Ugh…fine.”

“Score!”

“Where am I meeting you?”

“At the school entrance in ten. Don’t be late or we’ll leave without you!”

Unable to help the smile that found its way on to her face, Max laughed breathily.

“You’d really leave me behind?”

“Nah, we’d wait. I would, at least.”

“Thanks, Warren.”

Somehow, he seemed to get she wasn’t just thanking him for saying he’d hang around for her, and the smile was evident in his voice as he spoke a little softer.

“Any time, Max.”

 

Well, Warren had at least been right about the nice weather. It was gorgeously, sunny, not hot enough yet that being out in direct sunlight was overly punishing. It was almost as though yesterdays downpour had never happened at all. Still not really in the mood to swim however, Max had opted to changing in to a t-shirt and pair of flannel shorts she’d managed to dig out of the back of her dresser. Alyssa had dressed similarly, with Warren and Brooke the only ones so far to have dressed for the water.

“Bring your camera, Max?”

Looking up from where she’d lost her train of thought staring out at the ocean, Max took the bottle of sunscreen Brooke offered her way.

“You know me,” the brunette laughed with a somewhat forced smile, “I never go anywhere without it.”

“Cool,” Brooke nodded, rubbing the lotion in to her arms as she spoke. “Can I get you to snap up a couple photo’s of Warren and I later, then?”

“Oh,” Max raised an eyebrow slightly, pausing in her movements. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Leaving the brunette to herself after that, Max went back to staring out at the horizon, noticing Alyssa had wandered from their set up to stand to the edge of the waves, small surges enveloping her ankle-deep, before retreating in a back and forth motion.

“I’m disappointed,” Warren sat down beside her a few moments later, and Max turned to face him as he spoke.

“Why?”

“I wanted to see you in a bikini,” he laughed shamelessly, and Max felt her ears warm, shoving his shoulder roughly.

“Jerk.”

“Maybe next time?” his tone was so hopeful, the brunette couldn’t find it in herself to outright shoot him down, and settled instead on a thoughtful “maybe.”

“Hey on a more serious note, have you noticed the crazy weather we’ve been having recently?”

“How could I not,” she responded, dragging fingers through the warm sand. It was calming, and helped in blocking the reminder of yesterday’s events talking about the weather invoked.

“It’s seriously messed up,” he continued somberly, scratching at his temple in what appeared to be frustration. “It doesn’t make sense for it to be this fucked up. The worst part is this is only happening here in Arcadia Bay—everywhere else is fine.”

Now _this_ put Max a little on edge.

“What do you think is causing it?” she asked, her voice too hushed, too serious. He noticed, sending a look her way, though said nothing on it.

“Honestly, I have no clue. Maybe Arcadia just cant make up its mine on what season it wants to be? War of the seasons. Huh, that’s kind of a cool concept. Actually, there was this one movie I just watched the other night where…”

Seriousness in the conversation dissipating, Max felt secure enough to zone out once more, nodding and smiling at all the right time’s as Warren drabbled on. She wasn’t trying to be rude or anything, she just _really_ wasn’t in any state of mind to be taking this sort of thing in right now.

Seeing Alyssa and Brooke heading their way, Max took this opportunity to escape.

“I’m gonna go walk along the beach and scavenge for shells.”

“Oh, okay. See you when you get back, then.”

 

Having discarded her flip-flops back at their setup, Max now trudged barefoot along the shoreline absentmindedly, bending low to pick up a shell here and there, though coming up disappointed as she tossed them aside soon after.

She just couldn’t get past it.

The storm, the car, Mr. Jefferson.

_Mr. Jefferson…_

Just the thought of his name reminded her instantly of what had transpired in his car the day before. The soft drizzle of rain against the quieted car, the feeling of a cool hand brushing the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair as lips descend gently upon her own.

Cheeks reddening at the memory, Max was too caught up within her own thoughts to notice the shadow that engulfed her body, did not see the hulking body of the creature until she had run almost smack bam in to its side.

“What the—?!” she stumbled back at the near impact, looking up for the first time to see what she had very nearly collided with.

She gasped at the sight before her.

An adult humpback whale, looming in all its enormity over her, its body motionless—stranded along the shore she walked just moments before.

“No…” heart aching at the sight of the great creature in such a state, Max could not allow herself to stare. Turning, she began to call for the others.

“Warren! You have to come look at this, there’s—”

And when she turned to glance once more, it was gone, and she was screaming.

Bare feet stumbling uselessly, she fell, body jarring as she landed on her behind, mouth agape in the form of a scream that refused to leave her throat, muscles tightening painfully as she struggled to form the sounds her lips formed but did not speak.

“Max? Max, what’s wrong?!”

She could feel the hands being pressed to her face and shoulders, warm and sweaty against her coldly flushed skin, and it’s only when arms hook through her own to lift her does she entirely snap back in to reality.

Looking up through her hair, Max is surprised but relieved to see Warren standing before her, a look of deep confusion and worry etched in to his expression.

“…Warren,” she manages a little croakily, and his brows knit together as his worry thickens almost tangibly.

“Max, what happened? I heard you call and then all of a sudden you were screaming—did someone attack you?”

She shook her head feebly, reveling in the heat of his palms, the cool of his fingertips as they grasped at her upper arms, holding her steady as she swayed a little in place.

“N-no, I…”

Biting her lip, she glanced away. How was she supposed to explain this to him? He would never believe her—by this point Max herself knew that she had to be going mad. It was the only explanation to all of this—the only feasible one reason she could think of that made any sense at all.

“Max…” hands rubbed at her shoulders, and she was once more reminded of rain and heat. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I don’t care if it’s crazy or whatever—you’ve been like this since yesterday. You know I’m worried, right? We all are…”

“You’ll never believe me,” Max shook her head, making attempts to dislodge herself from his grasp stubbornly. He frowned, hands moving from her shoulders to grab at her wrists.

“Max.” His tone was serious, solemn, and she couldn’t help but stop in her struggles to glance his way. “You know you can trust me…just let me in.”

Tears welling in already dampened eyes, Max gave a slow, drawn-out blink, shoulders rising as she inhaled, dropping as she exhaled.

“Warren…”

“Yeah…?”

“…I think I’m going crazy.”

There was no change in his voice, no shift in his movement as he waited for her to explain herself.

And she did. Sitting together by the lapping of waves at their toes, Max explained everything she could remember of recent events, only leaving out things to do with a particular photography teacher so as to protect both herself and him—as well as…whatever the hell it was going on between the two. Thoughts for later, either way.

Finally finished with her explanation, the brunette waited for Warren’s response. He appeared to be having an internal fight with himself, conflicted with what to say, his mouth opening and closing, lips shaping words that were never uttered as they were sealed once more. Finally, he spoke.

“Max that’s…do you need to see someone about this?”

Blinking, Max stared at him. This was…not the response she had hoped for, or expected from Warren of all people. Swallowing, she realized just how dry her throat had become from talking so much. The itch was painful, caused her to cough as she attempted to speak.

“What do you mean, ‘see someone?’”

“W-well you know, the school psychiatrist or something?”

“You don’t believe me,” she whispered, pushing him away as she attempted to stand, stumbling as she did so. He moved to aid her, though she slapped his offering hands away, taking a step back so as to put some space between them.

“No Max, that’s not what I meant, I believe you it’s just—”

“Guys, hey! Kate’s here, and she brought snacks!”

The sudden intrusion of Brooke’s voice as the girl approached them signaled the end of their conversation, and Max did not speak to the boy as they made their way back, refusing to respond to the pleading looks he shot in her direction the whole way there.

 

Kate’s arrival was welcomed by both a collection of rumbling tummies, and Max’s need for a change of subject. As the group chowed down on the assortment of biscuits and chips, Max turned her attention to the girl who had so thankfully brought them along with her.

“How was church?” she asked, desperate for any form of distraction she could get at this point.

“The same as always,” Kate responded with a smile, though Max could see her searching her face, the falter in her smile confirmation that she knew something was amiss. She did not ask however, something of which Max was eternally grateful of—though the brunette knew better than to think that Kate would not remember to ask at a later, more private time.

“Hey, have you heard about that girl’s disappearance lately? Rachel Amber?” It was Brooke who spoke out, and soon enough the others were enraptured in what she was saying, adding in here and there as they discussed it. Max vaguely listened in, nodding and giving her own opinion where necessary. She was still so unfocused.

Hearing the loud sound of a car’s engine as it thrummed to a stop at the parking bays that led down to the pathway on to the beach, Max and the rest of her group looked up to watch as much louder, much rowdier group of teenagers hustled their way down in to the sand, dragging with them an assortment of umbrellas, towels, bags and stereos. Recognizing Dana among them, Max realized who this group had to be—the Vortex Club.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the brunette spotted Victoria, making her way a little slower down the path with a towel slung round her shoulders, an unusually cheerful-looking Nathan following in tow. She soon noticed Max though, and with little hesitation, broke from the edges of the group to make her way over to them. The blonde boy behind her was far more hesitant to follow, though with a grimace—ah, there was the usual Nathan that Max knew—strode quickly to catch up with her.

“Max,” Victoria nodded as she came to stand before them. The rest of the group fell silent, eyes glancing between the blonde and the one she had spoken to, waiting.

“Hey, Victoria.” Max gave a small wave, eyes darting to Nathan as he hovered nearby, glaring daggers her way all the while. Friendly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Pretty sure last time I checked the beach was open to everyone,” Max shrugged. She heard Warren ‘meow’ from behind her, and did not fail to notice the furrowing between Nathan’s brows as his glare deepened.

“Cute,” Victoria sighed, seeming unbothered by Max’s cattiness. “Well, have fun anyway.”

With a wave over her shoulder, Victoria led the way back to the larger group of teens now setting up a large volleyball net not far from where Max and the others still sat. After a moment of silence, Brooke speaks.

“…Should we leave?”

“No way,” Warren protested in an instant, jumping to his feet in an instant. “It’s just like Max said, everyone’s welcome here at the beach—even Vortex jerks. Also we were here first.”

They chat a while longer, though it’s not long before Max notices someone else’s approach—this one a far more welcome intrusion than the last.

“Hey Dana,” Warren chirps, voice pitching up as he clearly ogles her rather pretty (and likely expensive) pink bikini. Both Alyssa and Brooke roll their eyes in unison, though Max ignores them as she stands, brushing off sandy legs along the way.

“Hey guys, you busy?”

“No we’re not busy, not at all!”

Kicking sand in Warren’s general direction, Max takes over in handling the responses.

“We weren’t doing anything right now, why?”

“Great!” Dana grinned, clapping a hand down on Max’s shoulder. “We were about to play a game of volleyball but we’re a little short on willing players—and I noticed you all over here and thought, well…?”

Leaving her explanation open ended, the pretty girl glanced between each of their faces hopefully.

“No thanks,” Alyssa replied instantly, and Kate shook her head in silent agreement.

“Ditto for me,” Brooke sighed, looking bored and all-round irritated by the other girls presence.

“Hey, hey, come on guys, where’s your team spirit?” Warren had jumped up immediately, at Dana’s side in an instant. “She came all the way over here and asked so nicely, and we’re all just gonna say no? What about you, Max?”

Realizing she was the only one who hadn’t said anything yet, Max swallowed nervously, glancing around the group. Neither Alyssa nor Brooke seemed to particularly, care, Kate shot her an encouraging smile, and Warren’s pleading expression looked caught between _‘please don’t make me go over there alone’_ and _‘be a bro and do me a solid just this once’._

Shoulders slumping as she sighed, Max gave up.

“Alright, alright. I’ll play.”

Warren whooped, and at the brightened expression on his face Max decided her terrible decision was almost worth it. _Almost._

Following Dana over to the much larger group after saying goodbye to her own, Max noticed the curious look Victoria gave her as she noticed them, and outright ignored the angered one Nathan shot their way as they approached.

Following Dana and Warren over to the opposite side of the net from Victoria and Nathan, Max positioned herself toward the middle of the group, hoping she was situated in a place where she wouldn’t get in the way. Not exactly the sportiest person around, Max wanted to stay as far away from the ball as humanly possible.

And it worked for a time too, people on their side of the net soon realizing passing to her was useless—the brunette more often than not missing their cues or dropping the ball entirely, very few of her sets passing over the net.

Warren was, on the other hand, surprisingly good at the game—though come half time he was the only one still passing the ball her way, much to her embarrassment.

One of the boys keeping score then called out for some people to swap sides, and Warren was regrettably dragged over to the other team, glancing Max an apology from the other side of the net as he positioned himself. It was then that she noticed the absence of a particular blonde male from the other team, and looking around, near on jumped out of her skin when she saw him shuffled up beside her, glaring.

“Hey,” she offers dumbly, to which he looks away, knees bent as he prepared for the game to begin again.

“Hey yourself,” he retorted sharply, the ball he set scaring Max as she stumbled back, earning herself a shove from a nearby player.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I think you heard me when I said anyone could be here, Nathan.”

“You know what I mean, bitch.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

Clenching her fists Max straightened up out of her stance, turning to glare head on at the blonde boy.

“Nathan, I don’t know what your problem is with me but I have no idea what you—”

“Max look out!”

Warren’s panicked voice cutting her off, Max turned to look his way, though only glimpsed a split second of his look of warning before something hard smacked her right between the eyes, _hard._

Sent flying backward, Max had slipped almost all the way in to shadowy unconsciousness by the time she hit the sand, eyes slipping closed as she saw Nathan hovering over her on his knees, his cold fingers at the back of her neck a sudden reminder of someone else.

 


	6. Beach Part II

She awoke to the sound of waves.

Sitting up abruptly, Max instantly regretted her first waking decision, clutching her head between her hands as it throbbed painfully behind her skull.

“Hey.”

Looking up between mussed bangs, Max was surprised to see Nathan of all people sitting beside her. Remembering his words from earlier on, the brunette grumbled an off-handed “hey yourself”, tucking her knees up under her chin as she let her eyes wander. Everyone was still playing as though nothing had ever happened, and a sudden realization hit her all at once.

“Uh…so, what happened exactly?”

Nathan shot her a dirty look, kicking at the sand between his toes and tugging at his weathered t-shirt uncomfortably.

“Idiot. You were too caught up in running your mouth and getting in my face to notice your little boyfriend spike the ball in your stupid face. Don’t you even know how to block?”

“Apparently not,” she sighed, looking down at her own feet buried in the warmth of the white-yellow sand. “If I’m such an idiot though, why are you even sitting here? Did you stop playing to look after me?”

She did not see the way his cheeks darkened, the tips of his ears reddening in clear embarrassment.

“I-I…hurt my ankle.”

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

Raising an eyebrow, Max looked up to stare at him confusedly.

“Not really…?”

He didn’t say anything in response to this right away, and within a few minutes Max assumed the conversation to be over, until he spoke once more.

“I hurt it trying to save your ugly face from the ball, dumbass. Of course your fat-ass head was so big it still hit anyway.”

“Oh…thank you…” Scathingly childish insults aside, Max was both shocked and thankful that the boy had even attempted to help her—if anything, expecting him to have instead just stood there and laughed at her ‘fat-ass head’.

Shifting, Nathan appeared genuinely unsettled by the praise she gave.

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

“No, really—”

“Ever.”

Giving up, Max sighed, turning her attention back to the game still going on as she rubbed her forehead absentmindedly. It was still sore, and there was definitely going to be a bruise come tomorrow morning, she just knew it.

“…Does it hurt?”

Surprised that he was even still talking to her, Max didn’t bother looking his way as she answered.

“A little. Not much, though.”

“Your hair looks stupid.”

“Thanks.”

The silence this time was a little longer, and by the time he spoke again Max had begun to doze off, eyes slipping shut as she grew tired of watching the evil ball bounce back and forth over the net. It certainly was much more enjoyable to play than it was to watch, even if she _was_ still useless at it.

“You don’t belong here.”

Groaning as she rubbed knuckles in to her eyes, Max rolled her head over where it had been propped up on her forearm to look at him. He wasn’t looking back at her however, seemed to be refusing to do so as he kept his eyes glued to the group of laughing teens before them.

“What do you mean?” she questioned him drowsily, too tired to bother picking a fight with him on the matter. It was pointless anyway—she’d already learnt that much.

“You’ve seen it, right? I know you have.”

“Seen what?”

Voice dropping lower as his gaze finally shifted to her, Nathan leaned in a little to whisper morbidly in her ear.

“The storm.”

Her blood ran cold. All at once, Max wasn’t so tired anymore. Head lifting as she stared at him cautiously, Max blinked rapidly as she sought to form a coherent response for him, mind suddenly deciding to run rampart all of its own accord.

“How did you—”

“Max!”

Interrupted once again by the sound of her name being called, Max looked up to see Warren jogging over to them. At least there wasn’t a ball hurtling toward her head at almighty speeds this time as he called her to attention.

“I can’t believe you scored that point, girl! I mean I knew you were headstrong, but to think you would _headbutt_ the ball over the net—what a trick shot! You have _got_ to teach me that one sometime!”

“What?” Curving an eyebrow at the cheerful boy, she shot a confused look Nathan’s way, though he seemed to have reverted back to wanting to ignore her existence entirely. Talk about hot and cold. “What do you mean _‘trick shot’_ —I fell on my ass and blacked out.” Max suddenly remembered Nathan’s worried expression as she had faded in to darkness, and the thought of his fear for her both unnerved and confused the girl. A thought for later, perhaps.

“Yeah but like,” the boy seemed to struggle to get the words out, and by the time he was done explaining, Max was left even more confused than before.

“So let me get this straight,” she tried, trying to rub away the throbbing headache pulsating in her ears hotly with every thought it attempted to process. “You spiked the ball at my face, it rebounded and hit the sand before anyone could get to it?”

“Well I was actually aiming for _him,_ ” a thumb motioning toward the glowering blonde still sitting at her side, “but I guess I’m not as good an aim as I thought, huh? Either way—everyone was so distracted by your awesome moves, they totally missed the ball flying over the net! That cost us the game too—you should have seen how happy your team was when they won! It’s all thanks to you as well—had they been a point down, we would have had ‘em!”

“That’s…so incredibly stupid, I don’t even know how to respond.”

Despite the atrocity of Warren’s seemingly true story, Max couldn’t help but smile at the whole ordeal.

“I know, right?”

As the two began to laugh, a disgruntled noise from Nathan beside her interrupted them, and the pair watched as he dragged himself up from the sand, not bothering to brush himself off as he stormed away.

“The hell was that all about?” Warren asked confusedly, and Max shrugged, not really having much of an answer for him.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Nathan’s been acting kind of weird lately—weirder than usual.”

“Yeah,” Warren shrugged, though seemed happier to move on from the topic as his smile returned, hand out in an offering to help her to her feet.

“Wanna go another round? I’m sure nobodies gonna complain about you playing now when they’ve realized the super power you in your forehead—the other team is gonna be spiking left right and center at your head!”

“That’s…not a good thing, Warren.”

“Maybe,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. “Guess we’ll never know unless we find out, huh?”

Fighting the smile that nonetheless found its way on to her expression, Max shook her head at the boy’s playful stupidity. It was refreshing, and certainly something she needed right now of all times.

“Hey,” she said as their laughter died down, and he blinked up at her, smiling in question. “I’m sorry about before when I…you know…snapped at you.”

“Oh.” The smile faltered a little, though stayed right where he wanted it as he responded, rubbing the back of his head a little sheepishly. “No worries, Max. It was kind of a shitty thing for me to suggest—I don’t think you need help…not _that_ kind of help, anyway. You know if you ever need anyone to talk to, you have me and Kate, we’re all here to help out.”

“Yeah I know,” Max smiled, feeling her headache lessen a little, making her realize their fight from earlier had been weighing down on her shoulders ever since it had happened just a few hours earlier.

“So…you gonna play, or what? We need that forehead of yours back in the game!”

“You are so terrible,” Max laughed, slapping his shoulder good-naturedly. “Fine, I’m in.”

 

It was late afternoon by the time the group made their way back to Blackwell, Max and Warren having broken away from the larger group to rejoin their friends to spend the last of their time at the beach sitting about relaxing before the time urged their return to campus.

Thanking the others for their day out, Max had just been about to head back to the dorms for a nice hot shower when she suddenly noticed Nathan walking off toward the parking lot.

“Nathan!” Calling out to him, Max had to jog to catch up to the blonde as he slowed, though did not stop or turn to look at her. It was only as she finally reached him that he did halt in his step, though still would not face her way.

“What did you mean when you asked about the storm?”

She watched as shoulders visibly tensed, as he appeared to mule over his answer, deciding as he turned over his shoulder to stare at her. His gaze was cold, his expression more solemn than she’d ever seen it before.

“If you really want to know…follow me.”

“Nathan—”

“Talk, and I’m leaving you here. Just…shut up and come already.”

Closing her mouth and sealing her lips, Max waited a moment as he stared her down, looking for something, she wasn’t sure what. When he seemingly didn’t find it, the boy sighed, turning his back on her as he continued on along the path that led to the student parking lot.

Approaching a red truck, Nathan swung himself in to the drivers seat, not bothering to wait for Max to get in as he started it up, engine thrumming to life as the brunette closed the passenger side door, realizing she was still carrying her beach bag and towel as she wriggled to get more comfortable. It certainly wasn’t as comfortable as the plush leather seating she had undeniably begun to get used to…but was anyone really comfortable in Nathan’s presence?

Keeping her mouth shut firm as they pulled out of the lot and headed off to wherever the heck it was Nathan was taking them, Max opted to stare out the window as opposed to saying anything. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the reasoning, but she could very easily tell that in this moment, Nathan wanted quiet—wanted her to be silent as he thought things through. It was as though he had wanted her to notice him walking away, had wanting her to chase after him. She had not a clue why, but after what had been said at the beach, she sure as hell wanted to know.

Noticing that they were heading back to the beach, Max shot the blonde a sideways glance, questioning though not expecting an answer as he pulled in by the pathway leading up to the lighthouse—its beacon not yet having been turned on in preparation for the night ahead.

His car coming to a shuddering halt, Nathan ejected the keys from the ignition before swinging his door open, not waiting for the brunette girl as he headed up the dirt path leading to the beacon.

“H-hey,” Max tried, walking swiftly to catch him as he trudged along with hands thrust deep into his pockets, eyes looking straight ahead, driven.

Once they had finally reached the top, Max slowed, watching as Nathan went to stand by the single bench overlooking the bay, extracting a hand from his pocket to run the tips of his fingers along the back of the wooden frame.

“The lighthouse?” Max folded her arms across her chest, glancing around blankly. Was there something here he had to show her? “Nathan, why are we here?”

When he didn’t answer right away, she tried again, though did not get very far as she was brusquely cut off.

“Nathan—”

His lips were cold.

“Na—mmph!”

Struggling against his mouth, Max tried to move away, digging the heels of her palms in to his chest in an attempt to pry herself from his grip—to no avail as he grabbed her wrists in just one of his hands, forcing them away from his chest as he forced her mouth back on his with his other hand pressed roughly to the back of her neck. His fingers felt like ice brushing up against her skin, the mouth that moved against her own just as cold. Why was he so cold?

And why was she drenched?

Rain now bucketing down from above them, the sky having opened up in to the blackened chaos of a storm, Max continued to struggle, not giving up despite knowing very well that Nathan was both stronger than her, _and_ had the upper hand in this situation.

Looking over his shoulder, Max was suddenly distracted by the wind whipping at her bare legs and face, watching in horror the manifestation of an almighty hurricane as it surged toward Arcadia below them, threatening to tear the bay to shreds within a matter of seconds.

His tongue was in her mouth, and from within her own panicked state, Max bit down, _hard._

“Fuck!”

Sensing the instantaneous loosening of his grip Max was finally able to wriggle free, tearing her wrists from his painful hold to shove the blonde away, putting some much needed space between the two heaving bodies.

The storm that had raged just moments ago had vanished without a trace, and Max was dry, aside from the thin sheen of sweat that now covered her body as she made attempts to calm her heart beating like a jackhammer within her chest.

Glaring up at the boy who stood hunched with his hands to his knees, she noticed the blood that dripped from the corner of his mouth, spilling over his chin as he straightened up. Wiping it across the back of his hand, Nathan turned his attention back to her, staring back with an intensity Max had never seen from him before.

“What,” she managed, coughing on the air she inhaled before trying again. “What the hell was that?”

Eyes glassy, Nathan seemed to think a moment before responding.

“That was the future. The storm.”

“What?” Confusion her new favorite emotion, Max shuddered at the thought of an unexplainable impending doom that now loomed over her conscious mind.

“Everything you keep seeing, all those flashes and whatever—they’re visions, and if you want it to stop you need to leave.”

“Nathan I don’t understand, what do you mean _leave_? Leave Arcadia Bay? What does that have to do with this?”

Though the boy opened his mouth to speak, words never passed the formation of his lips as he dropped to the ground, an almighty bang ringing out through the silence. Max watched in horror as he fell, saw the blood that now poured much faster, much darker from his mouth, saw as the light faded from wide blue eyes now faced down in the dirt.

And she looked up from his motionless body, slowly, carefully, to the man holding the gun, watched the way the sun reflected off his glasses, brown eyes locked with her own as a grin made its way on his familiarly handsome face.

And then she woke up.

Flying out of bed and tearing open her door, Max ran as fast as she could down the corridor and to the boys dormitory, not stopping as she passed someone calling her name—she likely knew them, but by this point did not care to stop and find out.

Coming to a stop in front of a door she’d never been to before or even recognized, yet somehow knew, Max pounded her fist down upon its smooth wooden surface, shouting the name that came to her lips without thought.

“Nathan!”

Please be here, please be here, oh God please be alive and here and okay.

As she raised a clenched fist to knock furiously at the door once again, it opened, and from behind it appeared a very disheveled, very confused looking Nathan. Brows turning down in complete and utter confusion, the blonde stared at her in question, arms folding across his chest as he stared.

“What the hell do you want _now,_ Max?”

“Max?”

Hearing Warren’s cautious voice from behind, Max turned to see the brunette boy standing by his open door in his boxers. Completely ignoring this she approached him, grabbing at his shoulders.

“Warren—what did we do yesterday, did we go to the beach?”

“Y-yeah,” he answered cautiously, slowly. “We were playing volleyball and you got knocked out, we had to bring you back here. The nurse said you’d be fine so we left you to sleep—Kate said she was going to check on you this morning once she’d woken up, are you—h-hey Max, hold on!”

Hands dropping from his shoulders, Max lost all feeling in her body, her brain in shambles, dizzy with thought and confusion as she dragged herself back out of the dorm, ignoring Warren as he called after her, the stares and whispers of others as she walked back to her own room. Once finally there, the brunette collapsed down in to a crumpled heap over the disheveled heap of quilt and sheets, still warm, and cried herself in to a dark, cold oblivion.


	7. Solitude

She called in sick for work the next day.

“Well you’re lucky that new girl is available to cover for you,” her boss carped over the phone, unaware of the fact that Max had been crying just minutes earlier, of the shake in her voice as she responded.

“Y-yeah…thanks again, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

“Hmph.”

Taking that as her cue to hang up, Max let her phone drop from her fingers and on to the bed, her body following its descent as she lay back down, curling in upon herself. Her eyes were achy from crying, worn from lack of peaceful respite.

She stayed in this position for much of the rest of the morning, only getting up to the sound of faint knocking and Kate’s familiar voice echoing in from the other side of her door come early afternoon. The girl had brought her lunch, which she thanked her for though did not eat. Kate understood Max’s need for space, and did not hover nor hesitate in taking leave as soon as she done what she had come to do.

Warren texted a little while later—it was a few moments before Max even registered its buzzing in her ears as she sat up to search for it.

_‘Yo Max. Thought I’d text and see how you were doing. Need company?’_

She’d declined him as politely as she could, attempting to remedy his undeniable disappointment with a promise that she would settle down and watch movies off the hard drive he’d given her for the rest of the afternoon. It had worked, the brunette’s phone having fallen silent after the short (and slightly forced) back-and-forth conversation with Warren ended.

By the time 3pm rolled around, Max decided she was in the need of a shower, still able to feel the grit of sand pressed in to her scalp, the salty dryness of beach air tangled in her short hair.

Figuring no one would be hanging about the dorms at this hour with the weather looking so bright and sunny outside, Max risked sneaking her way across to the showers, not a being in sight as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

The water was cool despite the warmth of the weather, though it was for this reason that Max didn’t mind all that much as she rinsed the soapy shampoo from her hair, pushing wet bangs away from her forehead.

Leaving the showers feeling much cleaner and less weary than before, Max stopped dead in her tracks as she turned in to the corridor and spied Nathan leaving her dorm room. Draping the small towel she’d been using to dry still wet hair round her shoulders, Max walked quickly to his side, her sudden presence catching him off guard as he jumped back a little.

“Max!” he said with a gasp, working hastily to compose himself lest she notice the reddening hue of his cheeks as he turned away to hide it. She noticed.

“Do you want to tell me why you were in my room?” she questioned, not particularly annoyed (she was still far too worn-out for such a level of an emotional spike as of yet), merely puzzled by his actions and curious of his reactions.

His mouth moved as though to speak, brows curving downward in obvious frustration as he seemingly thought over how to respond to her question.

“If you’re asking me whether I went snooping or something, I didn’t. You left your door open.”

“Nathan, that still doesn’t answer why you were _in_ there in the first place.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot in an agitated matter. What was the matter? “I was just…I mean, what I’m trying to say is…what the hell were you doing busting down my door this morning, huh?” His tone rose angrily as it became a question, and Max raised her brows at the sudden spike in negative sentiment when he’d been so placid just mere seconds ago.

As she opened her mouth to speak, thoughts of that morning came rushing back to her, and her head began to throb painfully. The pain must have been there in her expression, because as she looked up she was surprised to see Nathan now watching her with worry in his eyes.

“Your head still hurts, huh?”

“We’ll I’d completely forgotten about it until now,” Max shrugged, laughing the question off with a slight wince.

Her laughter subsided at the notice of his rising hand, cold fingers pressing lightly to her forehead before the brunette had a chance to say or do anything in protest. The look he gave her was almost painful, so sad she had to wonder what exactly it could mean. This visit wasn’t just about wanting answers for her banging at his door earlier that morning, was it..? It was almost as though—

“What’s going on here?”

The sound of Victoria’s voice snapped her out of her inner musings, and within the next moment Max had stepped back and out of Nathan’s reach smoothly, looking up to face the blonde girl’s rather irate glare.

“Nothing,” Nathan responded with hardly a moments hesitation, moving swiftly to Victoria’s side, hands thrust in his pockets. The familiar look of distaste was back on his expression, and Max was almost saddened by obvious need to prove himself in the presence of the other blonde.

With a final stare between the duo, Victoria seemingly gave up, taking off down the hallway without a second glance. Nathan shot the brunette a look akin to an apology, although it lasted all of a split second before he too was gone, rushing after Victoria as she left the dorm.

Alone once more within the dorm, Max went back to her room to put away her toiletries and towel, though felt the sudden need to leave as the two blonde teenagers had before her.

She needed air.

 

The air around the lighthouse was cool, calming, and Max lingered near the spot she remembered so clearly standing in the day before. To think it had all just been a dream…

Slumping down in to the nearby bench, Max stared out over the bay, not really looking at anything in particular as her mind drifted between thoughts sluggishly, comfortably.

Had she really made all of yesterday up in her head? The volleyball match? The talk with Nathan both at the beach and at the lighthouse?

Remembering the flash of a silver weapon Max shuddered, bringing her knees up under her chin in fear of the memory. Why would she have thought of something like that? It didn’t make any sense. To even _dream_ that Mr. Jefferson could do such a thing…

“Max.”

Speak of the devil.

Glancing up over her shoulder, the girl was unsure of whether to be surprised or not to see her bespectacled teacher staring down at her, the smile he wore soft and inviting. As she moved to stand he motioned against the action, coming round to sit at her side overlooking the vast expanse of ocean mapped out below and beyond their line of sight.

“Where have you been hiding?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been at the café in a few days,” he elaborated. “Did something happen?”

Max noted the way he sat, the way his body was draped in such a casual manner over the other half of the bench, his left arm hooked over the back hovering almost too close to her shoulder, ankle resting upon his right knee. He had sat closer to her than need be, closer than he _should_ , though she couldn’t find it within herself to complain or tell him otherwise. Not when he sat like that, looked at her like that, leaned in to her like that and—

“Oh,” Max jerked back in an instant, hands flying to her lap as she gripped at her shirt, cheeks growing unbelievably hot all too quickly for her liking. “I-I’m sorry.”

What was she sorry for? Staring? Reacting so drastically to the sudden shortening of proximity between then?

“Relax, Max.” There was something of a mocking tone to his otherwise soothing voice, though for all she was Max could not put a finger to why. “I wasn’t going to do anything sketchy.”

When she refused to respond, he expounded upon his own remark with a question she realised he already knew that she knew the answer to.

“Did you think I was going to try something?”

Gritting her teeth, the brunette turned away stubbornly, knuckles bone white under the force of clenched fists in her lap.

Fingers danced up the nap of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine as she froze, muscles locking up the moment he touched her.

She didn’t expect the voice that whispered against the shell of her ear, and when he spoke—the way he spoke—she could hardly withhold the whimper that came up strangled within her tightening throat.

“You never had a problem with me touching you before.”

Hot breath fanned out along her cheekbone, and slowly, hesitantly, she turned very slightly—only just—to look at him from the very corner of her eye.

Fingers that had continued to brush lightly along her neck glided up from her collarbone to trace along her jawline, catching the girl’s chin between forefinger and thumb as he lifted her face up to his own. His head tilted as he leaned in to press warm lips to her own quivering pair, breath warmer still against her skin as he himself seemed to gasp at the contact, similarly to her own sudden response, her surprise quickly melting under the heat of his touch and in to something else completely, something Max wasn’t sure she understood nor was entirely prepared for.

Or so she thought, as warm fingers became a hot hand splayed across her collarbone, thumb brushing lower across the very slight curve of the beginnings of her breast, and the noise he made—the _noise he made_ as he touched her, just how could she resist?

She kissed him back, and though hesitance gave away her clear inexperience within the given field, this did not seem to hinder the man at all as his other arm snaked its way around her waist to pull the girl to his chest, tips of his fingers digging and rubbing in to the terse muscles of her lower back, the motion rewarded by the breathy sound Max made, half a moan and half- _oh godwhateverthatwaspleasedoitagain._

His lips were bruising, kisses rough and very much without control, as though the caged lion that was his need, having spent long days pacing, lying in wait, had just been set free, the key long forgotten in its wake.

His hands were hot, too hot, his mouth like fire trailing blazing kisses along her jaw, peppering her throat as he bit down to suck possessively at the spot between her neck and collarbone. The sensation this brought her was so intense, so much, _too much_ for her to rationally handle, that she had to pull away, had to push the hungry man back down in to his cage as she struggled to gain a coherent thought, to pluck one from the spiraling mess that was her mind as of this moment.

“I-I…um…”

Coherency was not on the table as of yet, it seemed.

The brunette squirmed in place, thighs rubbing warm friction as she worked through the blur of her conscience to find something within herself to say to him. Something, anything _, anything_ but the silence that had enveloped the widening space between them.

The man appeared to be coming to his senses, his gaze no longer predatory, the heat emanating from his skin cooling substantially, enough to be noticeable as his fingers lost their grip on her waist, hand retreating back to curl at his side.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he stood from the bench, and with the quell of fear making itself known from within the pit of her belly, Max somehow managed to find it in her to say what her mind still stumbled over.  

“Why?”

His back was facing her, and as seconds of silence turned to minutes, she began to think he would not answer her. Finally he did, turning halfway to stare at her heatedly.

“Need I really say it?”

Air whooshing out of her lungs as though she’d been slapped across the back, Max averted her eyes embarrassedly.

“What you did…what _we_ did…” Max struggled in getting the words to leave her mouth, rubbing at her upper arm as she swallowed, trying again. “It was…it’s just—”

“Illegal?”

The word sent a sickening shudder down her spine, though she nodded timidly as he looked down at her for confirmation.

“If anyone saw us,” she continued, noting the way his brow rose, mouth twitching as though fighting off a smile. “We would be in big trouble.”

The smile prevailed, a low chuckle escaping upturned lips as he shook his head at her.

“Oh, Maxine…”

Turning back away from her, he began to walk off back toward the pathway, though not before finishing his sentence in a voice much deeper than what it had been just moments ago, so deep it made the girl gasp, body turning to stone at the weight of his words, the meaning behind them.

“It’s only illegal if you get caught.”

 

Something about his words from the day before bugged her.

Like that feeling you get when there’s something itching at the back of your mind, scraping at the deepest depth of your consciousness, like a memory but not at the same time. That was what she felt.

_“It’s only illegal if you get caught.”_

Groaning around the pen tip she had bit between her teeth, Max rolled over on to her side, the beanbag beneath her shaping a little too much to her body. Not enough beans in the bag, it seemed. Hm.

“You know, if you wanted something to moan and tear your hair out over, you could have just asked to help me with my next experiment.”

Hearing Warren’s voice, Max turned her head to look up, a little taken aback to see him leaning over so close to her.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” she replied dryly as he moved to flop down in the bean bag beside her, body shifting and wiggling about as he made attempts to get comfortable. “What are you doing here?”

“I was actually looking for you,” he grinned enthusiastically, and Max couldn’t help the warmth enveloping her body as it did every time he smiled like that at her. Happiness was contagious, and Warren was drowning in it. “Kate said you were in here, so I thought I’d come check up on you and, you know…chill out?”

Max laughed lightly, closing the textbook she’d had open. She _had_ meant to come to the library to take her mind off things, distract herself with some well-needed study, though with yesterday still fresh on the brain, well…

Things don’t always go to plan, do they? And besides, spending some time with Warren wasn’t the worst thing she could be doing at this point. It certainly worked as a means of distraction, so there really was no point in arguing.

“So how are you feeling?”

The question was expected, and Max sighed, only just a little exasperated.

“Well, I’ve been better. It could be worse though, so yeah I’m okay.”

At the absentminded nod he gave her response, Max bit the inside of her cheek. A sudden question dawned upon her mind, and the brunette couldn’t stop her mouth from running as she blurted it out—regretting the decision the minute she’d made it.

“What do you think of Victoria?”

“Victoria?” he laughed, raising a brow at her incredulously. “Why? You in to her?”

“What?” she let the grimace happen this time. “No, of course not.”

Warren smiled, though his expression was thoughtful as he mulled her question over a few moments.

“Well…she’s pretty enough,” he began, and as Max was about to cut him off he stopped her with a lifted hand. “ _But_. She’s too busy looking to prove she’s the best to really be considered _attractive_.”

“Then what about Victoria and Mr. Jefferson?”

Dammit brain.

“Well, that’s an even weirder question.”

At the pleading look she shot him though, he was quick to relent, his expression shifting back in to one of thoughtfulness.

“Honestly, I think that guy gets off on the power he has over so many of the girls in this school. It’s too much—he needs to learn to share the love around, you know? I mean, I guess I can see why girls go for that ‘older guy teacher archetype’, have you ever _seen_ how situations like that play out in—”

“No, no I have not.” Knowing very well where this question was going, the brunette was swift to cut him off, much to his poorly hidden amusement.

“Anyway, I can see the appeal in it, for sure—but I still think it’s wrong. Especially since the guy is, what, fifty?”

“Forty-six.”

Realising that was something she probably shouldn’t have been able to answer straight off the bat like that, Max caught the twist of confusion on Warren’s face as he stared at her.

“Right…anyways, why did you want to know all this in the first place?”

Max simply shrugged, quite honestly having no better way of responding without giving away the truth.

“I…overheard people talking about Victoria’s relationship with Mr. Jefferson, and I guess it just got me thinking. I wanted your opinion, that’s all.”

He laughed at this, and the girl relaxed a little, hoping he hadn’t seen through her lie.

“Ah, good old Max Caulfield, always just dying to find out what the latest and greatest is with everyone. It’s a gift, really, I don’t know how you manage it.”

“I’m sorry,” she felt her cheeks warm at the joking accusation, pushing brown hair from her face as she averted her gaze embarrassedly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. It’s actually kind of cute.”

Her pen became very interesting all of a sudden, and she laughed awkwardly as she clicked at its cap rapidly, trying to find a way to distract herself (and Warren) away from what had just been said.

Thankfully, Warren’s laughter soon fell silent, and Max began to settle once more as they both sat quietly, now simply just enjoying the presence of one another within the hushed library.

Noticing the boy shuffle from the corner of her eye, Max looked up—

And noticed the spatters of blood across the windows, the motionless corpses of dozens upon dozens of birds lying motionless across the expanse of grass outside, and the single whale curved over the edge of the road.

 


	8. Heated

If she’d been any braver a person, perhaps Max would have consulted someone about the things she was seeing by now. Maybe she could have gotten help, had someone to talk to, at the least. Max wasn’t brave, though. She was just Max.

The visions, as she’d decided to begin calling them, had become more and more frequent as of late. She’d witnessed yet another stranded, lifeless whale along the shore of the beach, and counted at least eight dead birds on the way to work. No one else saw them but her. What was she supposed to do, really? What could she do? Would people believe her?

She didn’t think so, no.

“Max? Hey, are you listening to me?”

“Huh?”

Train of thought broken, Max blinked rapidly and glanced around. Victoria stood waiting, arms folded as she watched the brunette expectantly. They’d ended up on the same shift together today, and Max had yet to decide whether or not this displeased her.

“Sorry, Victoria—I got lost in thought. What did you say?”

“Honestly,” the blonde sighed annoyed, rolling her eyes before speaking again. “I _said_ , what’s going on between you and Nathan? I tried bringing it up with him but he just dodged the question and got all weird about it. So what’s the deal?”

Yep, definitely displeasing.

“Why?” Max asked, honestly not knowing the answer to Victoria’s question herself. Something was going on, and somehow, she got the feeling Nathan was involved—but she didn’t know how yet. Remembering the kiss— _could she really call it a kiss?—_ they’d shared in her dream— _had it really been a dream?_ —Max felt her cheeks warm a little. Why would she have dreamt up something like that, anyway? And ever since then, Nathan _had_ been acting strangely.

“Do I need a reason to ask?” Victoria retorted, once again bringing Max back to reality when she realized she’d zoned out yet again. “Nathan is like, my best friend. I’m just looking out for him.”

Suspicious of the girl’s tone, Max hesitated a moment, thinking over the best way to respond.

“Honestly Victoria, I’m not entirely sure myself. I had somewhat of a…freak out in the dorms the other day. Nathan obviously saw me or something, and came to ask. I don’t know.”

“A freak out? What do you mean, like a seizure?”

“What? No, nothing like that. I’ve just been kind of stressed out lately, it’s no big deal.”

Victoria seemed skeptical of Max’s response, eying the brunette a few long moments, before decidedly giving up with a sigh.

“Well, whatever. Just leave Nathan alone, would you? He’s got enough problems of his own without having to worry about anything else—especially not over someone like you?”

Sheesh, what was that supposed to mean? Ouch.

“Okay.”

Nodding, Victoria disappeared out the back of the café for whatever reason, Max didn’t particularly care. Fiddling with the cash register, it wasn’t long before Max heard the tinkle of the front doorbell, signaling another customer.

Looking up, she was about to welcome them when she caught sight of who it was.

“Hey, Max!”

Warren, Kate and Alyssa walked up to the counter, and Max raised her brows, staring between each of them.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Well,” Kate began with a smile, “none of us have actually been here before despite the fact you’ve been working here a while, so we decided now was the perfect time to come visit.”

Leading the trio over to a nearby table, Max placed down the menu’s and set out water as she listened.

“We thought we’d come test your waitressing skills,” Warren continued on where Kate had ended, nodding thoughtfully. “Besides, I just had to see if the waitresses here wore those cute little maid outfits I’ve seen before. Not gonna lie, kind of disappointed right now.”

Thwacking him across the head with her serving tray, Max shook her head and laughed in exasperation. Kate looked just as vexed, while Alyssa had already busied herself with the menu.

“Wow, why am I not surprised, Warren?”

“You know me too well,” he stuck his tongue out mischievously, though the light in his eyes appeared to die a little as he noticed something behind Max.

“Hey…”

Max raised a brow, glancing in the direction he was now staring. She saw Victoria leave the counter, moving to serve an unfamiliar patron.

“I didn’t know little miss know-it-all worked here. Since when?”

“Oh, y-yeah. She started the other week.”

“Huh.” Warren shrugged, worry fading now that his curiosity had been sated. “So that’s why you’ve been all buddy-buddy lately.”

“Yeah…”

If only he knew.

Hearing the bell again as she trailed off awkwardly, Max checked the door to gauge whether or not she could escape the borderline suspicious looks of her friends yet, though stole her glance back when she saw who it was that entered.

Of course he had to come, and now of all times.

She could feel his gaze boring heavily in to the back of her head, though fervently refused to turn and acknowledge him. Victoria’s sole reason for wanting to work in this café was to get to see him—so Max would be nice, and let the girl have what she wanted.

“So, uh, what did you guys want to order?”

Catching the strange looks both Kate and Warren sent her way between glancing across at Jefferson, Max managed to take her friends’ choices down with slightly shaky hands, before escaping back behind the counter.

Throwing the messily scrawled order down for the kitchen staff to handle, Max positioned herself by the coffee machine so as to get a better view of Victoria and Mr. Jefferson, while still appearing as though she was hard at work. She almost couldn’t contain the laughter bubbling in her chest at the look of absolute disdain and displeasure on the man’s face as he chatted through his teeth with the flouncy blonde, watched the way his jaw clenched as she laughed at something he’d said. The brunette’s own amusement was short lived, however, as he happened to look her way, catching the smile on her face. The smirk that drifted on to his face made her freeze up, and she watched uncertainly, as he leaned in to whisper something to a now red-cheeked Victoria. This could _not_ be good.  

And at the way Victoria straightened, turning to glare white hot daggers her way, Max knew she’d been right on the money.

Victoria stormed back across to the counter, speaking before Max could even begin to ask what the problem was.

“ _Mark_ said he wanted to talk to you.” The way she emphasized his name—Max could almost _see_ the venom-coated blades the blonde shot from her eyes. She sighed. Just what did he want _now_? He was doing this on purpose, Max just knew it.

Sweating nervously, Max risked a glance in the general direction of her friends sitting across the room, looking right back down at the tiled flooring when she saw them watching. Well, Kate and Warren were in the least, Alyssa mostly just sat in waiting for their orders to show up.

“What do you want?” She folded her arms across her chest defensively.

“Now, now,” he laughed at her iciness, a sound far more genuine in comparison to the strained noises he’d made when Victoria had obviously tried to be funny earlier. “I just wanted to ask you about the Everyday Heroes contest. Is that so wrong?”

“That couldn’t wait for when I was in class?”

“A good question, Max—one that deserves a good answer. I _could_ have waited until Monday, but by asking in a situation such as this, it means you have lesser a chance of avoiding my question. You can’t escape me, Max. Even if you try.”

Max shuffled nervously.

Did he _enjoy_ hounding her like this? Clearly. Was she complaining wholeheartedly? Well, no, but…

“Besides.”

His sudden shift in tone and body language threw her, and Max looked up with a start as he removed his glasses, placing them down on the tabletop. This was…new. Mark Jefferson had never once taken his glasses off in public like this—not that Max had _seen_ , in the least.

His warm eyes caught her attention as they bore in to her, his gaze so very intent that Max suddenly forgot how to breathe. He wasn’t staring at her—he was staring _in to_ her, in to the deepest, darkest parts of her soul. She could almost _feel_ the way his eyes tore at her, broke her apart piece by tiny piece, searching for… _something._ But what?

And then, he spoke.

“I was going to bring it up back at the lighthouse, but, well…” and as if his voice could go any lower, as if it could pitch any _deeper_ , “I just got so _hungry,_ I forgot all about it.”

Max choked, gagging on the words that had caught on her tongue as he leaned back, seemingly satisfied with his… _handiwork_. The brunette’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gulping air, incapable of forming a single coherent sentence. Her hands fumbled with the tray she carried, almost dropping the silly thing as she tried to get ahold of herself.

He watched her expectantly, patiently, awaiting an intelligible response.

Finally, after several long moments of disarray, Max had finally pieced herself together enough to answer him.

“A-and now?”

Hey, she never said the response would be _smart._

“Now?” he prompted, urging more from her as he seemed to think the question over. She nodded, and at the heated look she received, Max already had her answer.

“Absolutely famished.”

Oh.

“One café latte?”

Never in her life, had Max ever been so grateful of Victoria’s presence before.

“We can talk more later,” the man motioned for Victoria to place his coffee down, though kept eye contact with Max all the while. The blonde seemed to notice this, glancing between the duo with more than a little disdain in her eye at being so very obviously ignored.

Snapping back to attention, Max jumped, gaze darting embarrassedly to the now irate Victoria.

“U-um! I’m just gonna…go watch the counter.” Stealing another glance Jefferson’s way, Max urged the warmth in her cheeks to fade, all but sprinting back behind the safety of the shop counter. She couldn’t help but notice the odd looks her friends were shooting in her direction, the way Kate’s brow hovered incredulously, and the acidic glare Warren was currently burning in to Jefferson’s back. And was Alyssa, well…staring at the menu again.

Huh.

xxxxx

The rest of the day dragged by slowly, painfully so, and come late afternoon Max was more than happy to clock off and hang her apron up for the day.

Though Alyssa and Warren had left some time ago, Kate had stuck around to walk back with Max—a notion the brunette was always thankful for.

It was hot—unbelievably so—and Max couldn’t begin to fathom how it had been _bucketing_ with rain just days before. Something really was amiss in Arcadia, and it was beginning to get to a point where she could no longer ignore it. And then there was her visions. The dead birds—the beached whales. Who was going to explain _that_ to her?

A familiar car rolled up in front of them, and Max almost couldn’t believe his audacity today—he’d been getting more up front, less hidden, and it was worrying. Was that the right word? Worrying? She didn’t know what else to call it at this point.

The window rolled down, and Jefferson leaned an elbow to the rim, shooting Max a funny look before speaking.

“You two need a lift back to the school?”

Max saw the glance Kate shot her way, leaving the answering to her, and sighed.

“No thanks—we’re fine with walking. Can’t keep relying on all the photography to keep us fit, after all.”

He nodded in understanding, though Max saw the knowing glint to his eye as he smiled.

“No worries. While I’m here though, I thought I’d let you know your entry is quite lovely, Kate. It certainly has potential—perhaps enough to win, even.”

“Oh,” Kate flushed, rubbing her elbow in that way she always did when someone complimented her, like she couldn’t handle the praise. Max knew that feeling. “T-thank you Mr. Jefferson.”

With a final nod, his window was wound back up and the car was off down the bend, disappearing from sight.

Not waiting for the questions she knew were coming, Max took off down the path, leaving Kate trailing behind. The girl caught up quickly though, and the two walked in relative silence for some time. Max just knew she had questions, could literally feel the need to ask radiating off the other girl’s skin at her side. She held back though, and it was only as they neared Blackwell’s front entry that Kate finally burst.

“So you and Mr. Jefferson seem…close?”

“Huh?” Max raised a brow, stopping in her tracks to give Kate a puzzled look. On the inside however, she was panicking. Under no circumstances could she slip up—there would be no possible explanation to how _close_ they really had gotten that Kate could accept. That _anyone_ could accept, for that matter.

“He was looking at _you_ when he offered us a lift in his car. Not us, but _you_. Also, teachers don’t usually offer lifts to their students personally, do they?”

Max wracked her brain for a reasonable explanation.

“W-well, last time I finished work it wad pouring with rain and he was our last customer for the day, so he offered me a ride back to Blackwell, that’s all. He probably just asked today because it was hot.”

Kate’s lips quirked, and Max began to sweat. Did she not buy it?

“Is that all?”

Nope, was so _not_ buying it.

“Well…”

“Max—”

“Relax, Kate,” she waved the other girl off, though Max knew she was quickly losing control of this conversation. “I’ll admit, there was _one_ other time he gave me a lift. Victoria had bee hounding me all day, I had to plead with my boss to hide me when she suddenly showed up in the café out of the blue. When I finally figured I’d given her the slip she appeared like, right behind me, so I ran for it. Mr. Jefferson pulled up right around the corner after he’d seen me running, told me to get in, and so I did. I didn’t really have time to think about it—it was either him or Victoria, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather take my chances with Jefferson than with her any day.”

“And those were the only two things?”

A more recent event resurfaced in her mind, though Max pushed it away, fearing that just the thought of the memory would give her away.

“Those were the only two time’s, I promise.”

Kate seemed unsure, and Max rolled her eyes, placing a comforting hand on the other girl’s shoulder.

“Come on Kate, do you really think I would let something _weird_ happen? Remember this is Mr. Jefferson we’re talking about—he would never do something like that!”

“Hm…I don’t know about that last part, but…if you’re sure, then I’ll believe you.”

“Trust me, if he ever tried anything crazy, you’d be the first to know.”

“I feel so privileged,” Kate shot her an awry look, and Max grinned, relieved that the girl seemed to have been sated…for now.

“Now that that’s over with, can we go inside now? I’m gonna be as brown as the Tobanga if we stand around for much longer.”

Kate laughed, shaking her head. They did however, start walking once more, and Max was thankful knowing she could escape to her room soon enough.

“You’re so melodramatic, Max.”

They had almost reached the dorms when Max spotted a familiar figure up ahead, leaning casually against one of the light posts, arms folded across his chest.

Realising he had to be waiting for them—or more specifically, her, Max sighed.

“Hey, girls.”

“Oh,” Kate’s surprise was genuine, meaning she hadn’t spotted him until he’d spoken. “Hi Warren.”

“Mind if I steal Max for a bit?” Though shaped like a question, Max knew for a fact from the way he looked at her, that there were no negotiations to be made whatsoever in this situation. He wasn’t asking.

“She’s all yours,” Kate smiled, waving them both off before heading back to the dorms herself, ultimately leaving Max alone.

Neither said anything at first, Warren hesitant, Max unwilling to start what was she could guarantee was going to be an unpleasantly awkward conversation.

Finally, he spoke, and the question did not surprise her in the least.

“Walk with me?”

Max shrugged, nodding when he did not respond.

“Okay.”

He nodded back, expression unreadable as he stared at her.

“Cool.”


	9. Trigger Finger

Walking through the parking lot to the beach for what felt like the fiftieth time that week, Max allowed Warren to guide them down the steps leading to the sand, where he stopped a third of the way to sit down. He motioned for her to do the same, and so she did. Tucking her arms under her legs, Max rested her chin on her knees, looking out at the ocean before them. The swell was low, tide pulling away from the shoreline, no longer licking at the clumps of seaweed garnishing the white-yellow grit.

“Max.”

At the sound of her name, Max looked up, staring at Warren. He paused, looking hesitant, and she waited, brushing thick brown hair from her eyes as she waited.

“Look…I’m just going to come out and say this, so please don’t get mad or anything. Okay?”

Pursing her lips, Max nodded after a moment, a shot of nerves moving straight to the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t going to like what he was about to say—he knew it, and so did she.

“Are you and Mr. Jefferson together?”

Unable to control her bodies reaction to jolt, Max shot up in an instant, fists clenching at her sides tightly.

“What?”

Warren seemed to anticipate this reaction, and while his expression remained mostly unchanged, he lifted his hands defensively, palms up.

“It’s just a question, Max. And after all those _questions_ you were asking just the other day, I think it’s only fair I get to ask one or two of my own, right?”

“How could you even think that,” Max continued on, having barely heard most of his explanation at all. “Why would you _even—_ ”

“I don’t _know_ , okay? Seeing you talk to him in the café today got me thinking back on when you questioned me, about him, and Victoria—and it started to seem like you were…I don’t know…like you were asking for confirmation on something—not just because you were _curious_ about my opinion.”

Biting at her lips to stop herself from screaming out loud, Max turned away from the still seated Warren swiftly. She hadn’t even taken a single step before he realized what she was doing, and he grabbed at her wrist, warm, slightly sweaty fingers keeping her in place. Whipping back around, Max began to tug, resisting his grip, though the boy was surprisingly strong—successfully holding her in place while he regained his now scattered composure.

“Just hold on a second! Hear me out, okay? I’m almost done—and after that, you can go. Please?”

Gritting her teeth, Max gave another slight pull, though when the grip on her wrist tightened, she sighed, giving up. Though she wanted nothing more than to leave this place, run all the way back to her dorm room and lock herself in for another day or two, Max knew Warren did not deserve the anger and rejection she was pelting him with right now. The boy had been nothing but good to her in the whole while she’d known him, and if there were ever a single person she could possibly tell about her ever-growing hallucinations, it would be him.

Slowly, carefully, Max sat back down. She noticed Warren’s grip on her hand loosen, though it did not disappear entirely, and he made no move to let go. Raising an eyebrow, Max looked back up to his face, though his expression was unreadable, providing no immediate answers to her looming questions.

Once he seemed sure she had relaxed a little, noted the drop of tension in her shoulders, he nodded thankfully.

“The reason I’m asking…the reason I’m probably so _ticked off_ by all of this is, well…I’m _jealous_.”

“Jealous?” Max questioned, both brows rising now, surprised. “Jealous of what?”

“Ugh,” he rubbed his eyes with his other hand, gaze dropping to their hands between them, and Max couldn’t help but stare down as well, as she felt his hold on her shift, his fingers soft, thumb running along the inside of her wrist gently. “You look at _him_ the way I look at you…the way I wish you’d look at _me._ ”

Oh.

Oh. Fuck.

“W-Warren,” she tried, throat dry enough to make her stutter over his name in an attempt to stop herself from coughing. The guilt she felt within the pit of her stomach was undeniable, and knowing the reason why just made it all so much worse.

“I know he’s interested, Max. I can see it. I know everyone treats me like I’m some goofy idiot—and they’re right, for the most part. But even _I’m_ not that dumb. I spend enough time staring at you as it is—if anyone was going to notice, it’s me. But the way he _looks at you_ —it’s scary. Like he wants to eat you, or kidnap you, or something. I don’t know.”

Inhaling unsteadily, Max tried again to speak, to say something, _anything_ , in response to Warren’s words. He sounded so sad…it hurt Max just to look at him now—the look of defeat and misery on his expression. It was just too much.

“Even if I did feel that way about him…Warren, it would never work. We couldn’t—wouldn’t—ever be that way. We’re not together.”

He laughed at this, though there was no humor in his tone.

“There’s still a chance for me, then?”

Her expression twisted, she could feel it, and he caught it as he glanced up, smiling sadly.

“Ah,” he sighed, using the time it took to rub at his forehead in order to compose himself. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like me the way I like you—and before you cut me off, which I know you were about to do, I’m okay with that. But I refuse to stand by while you—”

He _was_ interrupted, then, but it wasn’t by Max this time.

The sound of a verbal fight resonated from the far end of the parking lot, and both Max and Warren turned as it reached them. Max saw the RV sitting sprawled across several of the parking spots, and upon further inspection, the blue-haired girl that came stomping out of it, all in a tussle about something or rather else. A man followed after her just a second later, chasing her down as she stormed off across the parking lot. He reached out to grab her, both of them still yelling, and at the near contact she slapped him away, shoving him roughly in the chest before walking off. The blue-haired girl seems to realize they’re not alone, however, and looks up to catch the duo staring. She’s too far off for Max to distinguish her features, but at the sound of her voice, a twinge of familiarity spikes in the back corner of her brain.

“What the fuck you looking at?!”

Max looked away, swiveling back round to face the beach, while Warren did the same a few moments after.

“The heck was that all about,” Warren muttered under his breath, and Max shrugged, managing a half smile of agreement. They sat in awkward silence for a time after that, several long minutes passing, and Max began to wonder if she would have to start back up the conversation. She _really_ didn’t want to have to do that. Perhaps now was a good time to escape? She certainly wasn’t about to storm off like that girl had, her previous anger having subsided for the most part, though the discomfort she was experiencing currently was just as compelling a reason to leave.

“Anyway,” Warren finally spoke, and Max sighed, regretting not having left when she had the chance. “As I was saying—”

“Max!”

Hearing her name called by yet another familiar voice, Max glanced over her shoulder, more than surprised to see Nathan approaching them. Warren was quick to stand, almost as quick as she had been earlier on. His sudden rise stopped the blonde boy in his tracks, and Max watched his expression twist uncertainly, glancing between the two.

“What the hell do you want?” Warren questioned him defensively, and any uncertainly that had been apparent on Nathan’s expression dissipated, leaving anger in its wake.

“I don’t give a shit about you, loser. I’m here for _her_.”

He jerked his head in Max’s direction, and Warren shook his head, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.

“Are you serious, him _too_?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?” Nathan took a step forward, and Warren, looking to be more than just a little annoyed, mirror the blonde’s movement.

“You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

Feeling the tension rising quickly between the two boys, Max was beyond shocked when Nathan straightened out of his defensive stance, the white-knuckled fists at his sides uncurling, body relaxing as he sighed.

“Whatever.” He turned to look at Max then, for the first time since Warren had stood up. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He reached for her, and Max was about to question him before his hand was unceremoniously slapped away, the force of the slap sending him stumbling back a ways. Nathan glared at this, livid once more at the provocation, and the girl could only watch in confusion and shock as he reached in to his jacket.

The glint of cold metal made her tense up in an instant, breath hitching in her throat as she gasped audibly.

The gun was not pointed at her, however. Only eyes moved as she shifted the lesser part of her attention to Warren, who’s eyes appeared just as wide as hers felt, his hands back up as he backed up slowly.

“That’s right,” Nathan snorted smugly, cocking the gun at the brunette boy before him. Max watched in horror as he thumbed the safety lock, flicking the trigger in an almost benevolently manner as he stared Warren down, not once glancing her way. “Not so tough now are you, bitch?”

“Wait!”

She’d spoken before she could stop herself, and at Nathan’s piercing blue-eyed gaze shifting to her, Max recoiled in fear and the unconscious need to be out of his direct line of sight immediately.

“I-I’ll go with you,” she tried to reason with him, body shaking with every sound she uttered.

Please put the gun down, please listen to me and put the gun down, please don’t shoot us.

“Max, _don’t_ ,” Warren started, though she shushed him with the rise of her hand, wanting to appeal to Nathan’s better nature, and tame the blonde as soon as possible. She just wanted him to put the gun down—after that, perhaps then she could stop holding her breath between words, could put a halt to the increasing tremors resonating down her spine with every passing second.

“Hey!”

And that was all it took.

Max looked up at the sound of another, saw Nathan lower the gun just slightly as he turned to glare over his shoulder at the stranger who had interrupted them. She didn’t see Warren move, however, didn’t see him lunge at the blonde, didn’t hear the gunshot until it was ringing painfully in her ears, her eardrums feeling about ready to burst at the sudden, woundingly loud sound.

And then in the next moment, she was screaming, and Warren was sagging down against Nathan’s chest, arms dropping to his sides. The sudden added weight caused Nathan to stumble, and with a cry, he fell to the ground, held down by Warren’s unmoving body.

Everything was moving in slow motion, seconds feeling like minutes as Max covered her mouth, unsure as to whether the screams she heard in her ears were hers, or Nathan’s. His mouth fell agape, eyes wider than Max had ever seen them before, as he shoved at Warren, pushing the boy off of him. Max saw the blood then, saw the way it seeped in to Nathan’s jacket, staining his shirt crimson. There was blood everywhere—it was on Nathan’s hands, on his shirt, on his jeans—it rushed out along the cracks in the cement of the parking lot, streaming continuously from the wound in Warren’s lower chest—now visible due to Nathan having flipped him in his panic. His eyes were glassy, unmoving, and in that moment Max fell to her knees, unable to contain the scream that ripped through her throat at the sight of her friend lying dead before her.

Please, God, no.  


	10. Warm

Body alight with fire and fear, Max struggled to force her gaze from Warren’s body to stare up at the incoherent Nathan, stumbling as he dragged himself up from beside the motionless boy, hands shaking as he lifted them as though to say, ‘I didn’t do it.’

“What the fuck?!”

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Max turned, seeing a thin, bearded man run over from the RV across the parking lot. Coming to a stop before them, his attention shifted from Warren, to Max, and then to Nathan, where it stayed, as an odd look of recognition dawned upon his face.

“What the hell did you do?!”

“I didn’t,” Nathan sobbed uncontrollably, his raised hands moving to cover his face shamefully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I—”

“Nathan!”

At the harsh way he was addressed, the boy yelped and cowered, dropping the gun Max had forgotten he even had as he stumbled back. The discarded gun was now replaced by a phone, and Max watched in confusion as Nathan hastily dialed a number she did not recognize.

“He can fix this, he can rewind it and make it better.”

Words rapid and borderline incoherent, Max could barely understand the blonde.

“Nathan,” she tried, voice cracking as she spoke, “what do you mean? Who are you talking about?”

At the sound of her voice he froze, a look of realization washing over his panicked expression.

“Nathan?”

Dropping the phone, the boy turned to bolt, and Max cried out as he was tackled by the other man, faster than she could follow through bleary eyes, her vision impaired by the saltiness of her wet lashes as they stuck together. Nathan screamed as his arms were pinned behind his back, face pressed in to the gravel, though Max’s attention was diverted as she noticed the phone he had dropped, saw that whoever the boy had called in his delirium, had answered.

Crawling over to it, Max ignored the weighty feeling in her muscles that slowed her movement, taking the phone between shaky fingers as she lifted it to her ear hesitantly.

“Hello?”

“Nathan,” the voice seethed, and the familiarity she heard was, despite an initial feeling of relief, not at all comforting. “There had better be a good reason for you to call me on this phone right now. You know what we talked about. What is it?”

“M-Mr. Jefferson…?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a moment of confusion, before the voice spoke again.

“Max? What are you doing with Nathan’s phone?” as though he were a different person entirely, the acidity had disappeared from his tone as though never there, replaced by the soft, silky warmth that Max was now oh so accustomed to. There was something else there though, an underlying twinge of insecurity and anxiety she could hear in his voice as he spoke to her.

“I-I,” Max tried, though found she was having immeasurable difficulty getting past the way he had spoken before realising it was her, felt a million and one questions push their way to the front of her mind as she made attempts to form a coherent sentence to give him. Why did Nathan have his number? Why did he sound so angry when Nathan had called? Why did Nathan think that Jefferson could fix Warren being… _gone_?

Warren.

“Oh God,” she whispered, everything that had transpired in just the last few moments coming rushing back to her. “Mr. Jefferson, Nathan shot Warren, he pulled out his gun and threatened him, and Warren tried to take it and he shot him.”

“What—”

“Nathan said you could fix it, he said you could make it better—what did he mean, please—”

“Max, where are you right now?”

“At the beach, but—”

At the sound of the line going dead Max stopped, feeling the tears once again streaming down her face as she held back a chocked sob, lowering the phone from her ear and ducking her head down.

Just a few minutes later there was the screeching of tires, and Max looked up to see the familiar black car pull haphazardly in to the lot, parking diagonally across two lanes as the man got out, jogging over to where they were. His usual jacket and tie were gone, shirt buttoned and crumpled in a way that looked as though it had been thrown on last minute.

The man still leaning over Nathan lifted a little, opening his mouth to speak as Jefferson approached them.

“Who—”

The flash of a gun, and the man had been struck across the back of the head, crumpling down in to a motionless heap upon the gritty parking lot. Max yelped in shock and horror, and from beneath the now motionless body of the stranger, Nathan whimpered.

“H-hey,” the blonde struggled to free himself of the sudden extra weight, dragging his lower half free as he stood shakily, one leg at a time. Though his voice quivered, his expression was steely, resolved, as he spoke again.

“What the hell was that for?”

Whirling mid-step, Jefferson turned and delivered a loud, painful slap to Nathan’s cheek, sending the boy wheeling back, hand clutched to his face as he cried out, cowering away from the man that had struck him.

“Imbecile!” Jefferson snarled in the same tone Max had heard over the phone, and again she was drenched in a new found fear of the man and what he could do. This was not the man she had spoken to countless times before—the man she had grown inexplicably close to over the past few weeks. This was not the man who had touched her, and not the man who she had kissed.

But when he turned to her, his gaze softening exponentially, his smile warm and inviting, Max could do nothing but watch on as he bent to check Warren’s pulse. His expression was pained as he looked up at her, and the gut-wrenching confirmation that her friend had been killed only amplified the out of control whirl of conflicting emotions writhing within her at this moment.

At the reach of his hand to touch her face, Max recoiled in an instant, screaming and swatting at the hands that moved to comfort or control, she didn’t know which.

At the all-too familiar sound of a gun being prepped to shoot, however, his movements ceased, a slow smirk creeping upon his face as his eyes drifted shut.

“Nathan,” he murmured, and Max swallowed at the warning in his tone. “What are you doing?”

“Get away from her!”

“Nathan,” the man sighed, seeming unaffected and uncaring of the fact that the boy, having retrieved his gun, now stood at his back, the weapon pressed to the back of his head shakily.

“I had no intention of harming her,” he explained, though Nathan did not seem to care, dropping his aim a little to dig the gun in to Jefferson’s spine.

“Step. Back.”

Conceding with another sigh, Jefferson raised his hands in defeat, rising to his feet and turning to face the blonde. Now that she could see him in full view, Max could tell just how afraid Nathan was, watched the way his whole body shook as he aimed the gun up at Jefferson’s face.

“Drop the gun.”

Jefferson did not argue this time, loosening his grip to let the weapon fall to the ground with a cracking sound as it hit the gravel, making Max wince.

“Max.”

Another wince at the sound of her name being spoken. Glancing up to meet the man’s warm gaze, Max bit her lower lip to stop the hitch in her breath as she hiccupped, shoulders still wracking with pain and horror at the predicament they were in.

“Do you want me to save Warren?”

Blinking slowly, the brunette stole a glance Nathan’s way, watching a slow realization dawn upon his features.

“How?”

Nathan moved.

“Don’t—”

And then he froze. No, saying that the boy was frozen would be an understatement. As though petrified in stone, stilled mid-sentence, Nathan did not move a single inch, did not breath, or speak, or blink. It wasn’t just Nathan though, as Max began to realize slowly. Everything had stopped, from the sway of the trees in the late afternoon breeze, to the birds flying overhead, to the crash of the ocean waves against the shore— _everything_. It was as though time itself had stopped.

“What…how—”

“Well,” Jefferson smiled, and she jumped at his voice, half expecting to find him frozen too. But here he was, dodging around the frozen Nathan carefully to come to a standstill before her. “Who really knows?”

Disbelieving, Max turned to inspect the stilled blonde. The realization that had spread across his face before everything had stopped still remained, as did the gun pointed where Jefferson had been standing before he moved.

“You did this,” Max breathed, looking up at the man now standing before her. It seemed as though he was holding back a grin, and at the twitch of the corners of his mouth, Max knew she had been correct.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Max shook her head, looking to her shoes. “This is so…everything is just so fucked up. Sometimes, I don’t know whether what I’m seeing is real, or a dream, or…”

At the hand on her shoulder Max jumped, eyes darting up to meet Jefferson’s expectant stare. He was smiling, the expression soft. Though she tried to keep her guard up, having not forgotten what he’d done just before, Max couldn’t help the way her muscles relaxed when he touched her. It was unconscious. She didn’t know whether she hated that or not.

“I’m afraid you won’t remember any of this either way.”

“What?”

“I’m going to send you back,” Jefferson explained. “Back to before your friend was shot. Nathan won’t come.”

Hope quelled within her belly, though the last part of what he had said caught Max’s attention before she had any time feel relieved.

“What do you mean, Nathan won’t show up? Where will he go?”

The man’s lips pressed in to a thin line, and he averted his gaze.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Hope was instantly replaced by fear, and Max stepped back and away from Jefferson.

“I don’t understand.”

The smile returned, and as he lifted a hand to touch her, Max flinched away. The hand dropped as he stepped forward, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Max’s ruffled bangs before she could shift away again, surprising the girl.

“Don’t worry. You will, soon enough. Just not yet.”

Her eyelids dropped, and Max stumbled as she struggled to remain upright. Hands reached feebly for Jefferson’s shirt, fingers grasping at the air between them as she collapsed. Sprawled on her side, Max could hardly find the strength to look up, up at the man standing over her. His expression was blurred, unreadable from her position. Giving up, her eyes finally slid shut, and with a final utterance of Jefferson’s name, Max drifted in to a deep, black unconsciousness.

And then she was awake.

Jolted awake by a sudden falling sensation, Max sat up. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked around. She heard the waves before she saw them, smelled the salty ocean breeze, and begun to question why she was at the beach. She remembered though, that she had walked there with Warren. They had spoken, something about Jefferson, and then…

“Hey sleepy head, you’re awake!”

Warren’s voice made her jump, but looking up at the boy sitting beside her, Max felt the strongest wave of relief wash over her. She lurched at him, arms wrapped tightly around Warren’s neck before she could stop herself.

“Whoa,” Warren laughed, surprised. “What was that for? I mean, I’m not _complaining_ or anything, but why the sudden glomp?”

Pulling back just enough to get a good look at his face, at the warmth she saw there, Max smiled softly. Trying to think of a way to answer him, though, Max felt her smile fade.

Why _had_ she done that? What had that feeling been, when she’d looked at him?

“Max?”

“U-um…I’m just in a huggy mood, that’s all.”

She _didn’t_ know, and the answer she’d provided was the best she could offer either of them at this point. It appeared to be enough for Warren though, as he flashed Max a grin, and pulled her back in for another hug.

“Well, who am I to deny a cute girl one of my world-famous hugs? By all means, hug away!”

Smiling, Max hugged him back tightly, glad for Warren’s easy-going acceptance of her poor excuse.

“By the way…” Warren spoke slowly, thoughtful. “What were we talking about before?”

Jefferson’s face flashed in her mind, but Max shook the thought away. Something told her to keep her mouth shut about that, and so she did.

“I…I don’t know. I forgot.”

Warren released Max from the hug, leaning back on his elbows as he stared out at the ocean.

“Huh. Oh well, probably wasn’t important anyway.”

“Y-yeah.”

After a moment, Max joined Warren in watching the waves, mimicking his seating position. Unconsciously, she lifted a hand to rub her forehead, wondering absentmindedly why it felt so warm.

 

 


	11. Too Warm

The next few days were, to Max’s decided relief, uneventful. She went to class as per normal, and more often than not, was straight off to work not a moment after the final bell of the school day. Mr. Jefferson was, as oft, a constant familiar face at the café, although they spoke little due to business having picked up as of late.

Victoria was, of course, still trying her hardest to get closer to everyone’s favourite photography teacher whenever she was on shift, although it seemed now that she was finally beginning to get the hint. He wasn’t interested. Her mood toward Max had gradually begun to sour, though Max put this down to Victoria’s frustrations in her own inability to advance her relationship with Jefferson, and _not_ because she was blaming Max for how badly her plan was going. She hoped that wasn’t the case, at least.

Despite this gradual change, everything just seemed so…normal. _Too_ normal. Nathan had gone back to ignoring her existence, something Max was sure she should have been grateful for, though was not. The only time she ever really saw the boy was when he was with Victoria, usually as they left her room, or when he sat with her before Jefferson’s class begun for the day. There were no odd looks, no lingering stares. Had something happened? There was a niggling at the back of Max’s mind, a thought, or a memory, trying to push its way in to her conscious thoughts—but she couldn’t grab it, could only just brush the very tips of her mind’s fingers to it, before it would vanish again. It was bothersome, but not an immediate worry.

What _had_ been worrying Max, however, was how calm things had been. Nothing eventful had happened in days; no dramas, not even a single hallucination. Or vision. Or… _whatever_ those were. It was almost like the calm before the storm—the peace before something big happened.

 _This_ was what worried Max most.

It was five whole days, before anything of Max’s newly found equilibrium resurfaced in her life.

Bells rung to signify the end yet another day of rotating classes, and on her way out of photography, Jefferson stopped her. The gesture was slight, subtle—a simple readjustment of black-white spectacles along the bridge of his nose as their eyes met. She did not look to see if Victoria had lingered, had noticed Jefferson’s signal. By this point, she did not care. _Much_.

Mr. Jefferson leant against his desk, palm down flat as he waited for her to approach.

“Going to be in today?”

The question took Max a moment to process, his abnormally shortened way of speaking throwing her.

“I’m closing up.”

He seemed relieved by this answer, though with a glance at his watch, swore to himself and made a fast-walking break for the door. Before exiting and disappearing out of sight, however, he called over his shoulder quickly.

“If I get time, I’ll visit.”

He was gone after that, and Max stood awkwardly a few beats, wondering what had made him rush out like that. A meeting, maybe?

“Okay,” she said, though by this point was the only one in the classroom.

Xxxxx

An hour until occupational guidelines demanded she close shop, and there was still no sign of one Mark Jefferson.

Max went back and forth between being behind the counter, and scrubbing down already spotless tables. The kitchen staff had already left—always _did_ an hour prior to closing time. The last hour was mainly used to usher out straggling patrons, clean down everything that had been used, and still manage to slip in a coffee order or two before the clock struck time out.

Twenty minutes left before closing time, and the final customer had just left, nodding in her direction as thanks before ducking out and disappearing along the footpath. Watching him leave, Max threw down the hand towel she’d been using to wipe off the tables, exasperated.

He wasn’t coming. Perhaps he’d had a meeting to go to after all—she couldn’t blame him for that, couldn’t blame him for inexplicably getting her hopes up. It wasn’t _his_ fault, after all. He was just doing his job.

So why did she feel so cheated?

Having finished stacking chairs and cleaning everything off, Max just decided to call it a day and close up a little earlier than usual. It was getting darker out anyway—night coming on faster than it had the week earlier.

Locking the café’s front door with a key her boss had entrusted to her the first time she’d ever been asked to close up, Max didn’t notice the shiny black car that pulled up beside her until he spoke.

“I thought you closed at six?”

Max near on jumped out of her skin, back slamming hard against the glass door as she whirled around, mouth opened wide to accommodate the yelp that never made it past her lips, caught in her throat. Why was she so jumpy all of a sudden?

Jefferson seemed to wonder the same thing as he leant an arm along the length of his car windowsill, brows raised inquisitively.

Max recovered slower than she would have liked, though recovered nonetheless, brushing herself down as she answered him easily.

“We do, but it got really quiet after about 5. There was no one left by 5:40, so I just closed. Is that a problem?”

Mr. Jefferson seemed to mule this over a moment, his gaze speculative as he looked her over. It wasn’t the most heated look he’d ever shot her way, not by far, but there _was_ _something_ there that she saw in his eyes, a glint of… _what_ , exactly?

“Well, if you’re not going to serve me coffee today—how about I make _you_ a cup for a change?”

“Huh?” Max’s heart fluttered unsteadily. Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting?

The man appeared to take her cluelessness in stride, and laughed lightly before clarifying himself.

“Do you want to come over, Max? Let me serve you for a change?”

“Unless you’ve got some sort of dessert to go along with it, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to go no deal,” Max said jokingly. At the way Jefferson lifted his other arm to grip the steering wheel tightly, at the _look_ he gave her then, she realized the way in which what she’d said could be interpreted.

Oh.

“So is that a yes, then?”

Max bit the inside of her cheek, thinking the offer over. The prospect of being with Jefferson in his home, _alone_ , made her quiver just to think about. Whether this reaction swelled of fear and uncertainty, or anticipation and excitement, Max couldn’t tell. What was the right answer in this situation? Or, to be more specific, what answer did she _want_ to be the right one?

Exhaling shakily, Max gave a small nod, finally. Jefferson beamed, settled back down in to focusing on the road ahead as she rounded the front of the car, opened the passenger side door, and slid in. The feeling of plush leather was far too comforting, the smell it emitted far too familiar. Her body had relaxed, while her mind struggled to ignore the warning bell’s that were being set off, one by one. Had she made a bad decision? Was her intuition trying to tell her something? If it was, then _what_? _Why_? She just couldn’t piece it together.

Jefferson’s apartment turned out to be quite close—closer than Max could have assumed—and as they pulled in to the driveway, Max felt a new foundation of fear quelling deep within her. There was something prodding at her head—that wriggling, tugging feeling of a memory wedged so far down that she felt she could not access it if she tried—or even wanted to, for that matter. It was fine where it was, if Max had any say on the matter—but this _wriggling_ , the pulling sensation that made her think she was forgetting something important—it _had_ to _stop_. It was, quite frankly, driving her nuts—and that was saying something, if recent events were to go by.

The inside of his apartment was, to say the least, _immaculately_ clean. This didn’t surprise Max in the slightest, though. Everything had been arranged in a neat, prim and proper fashion, and the dark colour scheme and gloss finish furniture suited Jefferson to a T.

Jefferson led Max to the kitchen, and Max idly wondered if she should have taken her shoes off at the front door; she was afraid to dirty anything up.

The man seemed to guess what she was thinking as he turned to glance her way, shaking his head with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a seat.”

It was more an offer than a demand, though Max inclined anyway, dragging out one of the barstools by the kitchen counter to perch up upon. He watched her a moment longer, and once seeming satisfied, turned to get to work. She glanced around as he moved about, taking in her immediate surroundings. Everything was just so _neat_ , so clean—it made her wonder just how much time he spent here. Something about it felt unused, a cold that did not usually reside within used homes. If this was not where Jefferson went when he wasn’t at the school—then where?

“Tea, or coffee?”

“Um,” Max glanced at him, though he still stood with his back to her. “I’ll just have whatever you do. I’m not really picky when it comes to caffeine.”

Jefferson seemed to find this amusing, laughing lowly to himself as he continued to prepare their drinks. Max ignored this, attention caught by a sudden realization as she scanned the room once more. It had been bugging her since she’d first walked in—unconsciously—and she had finally realized what it was.

“Your walls,” she began slowly, “they’re bare. There aren’t any photos, or paintings. Why?”

Jefferson put the kettle he’d been filling at the sink down, flicking switches to begin the boiling process. Turning to look at her, the man leaned back in to the counter, expression pensive.

“These walls remain bare, because I have nothing to put on them. Nothing to hang.” When Max said nothing in response, he continued. “I didn’t bring any of it with me to Arcadia.”

“Why?”

Mr. Jefferson pushed off the counter, unbuttoning and removing his jacket in a single, fluid motion. It was folded then, across the barstool one over from Max. He then took off his glasses, placing them down on the bench, and returned back to his place by the kettle. His back was turned, and Max realized glumly that she was not going to get an answer to her question. She wanted to know why, but decided not to push it. She decided, instead, to ask a question that had been on her mind for some time now.

“So how much do you actually need your glasses? I mean, you’ve been taking them off a lot recently—are they just for show, or something?”

As she spoke, Max allowed her hand to glide soundlessly across the bench top, reaching for Jefferson’s glasses. Eyes never left his back as he moved about, and carefully, Max brought Jefferson’s glasses up and slid them upon her nose.

“I only really need them when I read,” Jefferson answered suddenly, causing Max’s entire focus to shift back to him; and away from the mischief she was getting in to. “I’ve found people see me as more approachable when I have my glasses, though, so I had a second pair prescribed for constant use.” He grabbed a container of what appeared to be coffee beans as he explained, screwing the lid off and turning to face Max, mouth open as though about to speak again.

Max could only attempt to hide the smile that threatened at the corners of her lips, at the look upon Mr. Jefferson’s face when he caught sight of her. And that _noise_ he made to the back of his throat, as his eyes roamed her face, took in the sight of her wearing something of _his…_ it almost made Max feel as though she, in extension, belonged to him—just as much as the spectacles she wore did. The guttural groan elicited from between pressed lips sent a shiver down the girl’s spine, a pool of heat coiling deep within her belly.

The container of unground coffee beans was set down carefully, a little _too_ carefully, as Jefferson made his way around the island counter slowly, steadily, eyeing Max with a stare she could only describe with one word—

Hungry.

Max noticed as his hands moved, fingers pressing in to his shirt cuffs to unbutton them, rolling each swiftly to the elbow; his forearms bare of all but the silver watch glinting over his right wrist. She did not move as he approached, despite the slow rise of fear urging her to do as such. The feeling went ignored, pushed down by the growing need to be near the man, to inhale his scent, to touch, to kiss—

This was not a feeling she was used to.

“They really do suit you,” he spoke from right next to her, warm fingers brushing feather-light across her neck, her shoulder. “So, _so_ well.”

“Then,” Max managed a shuddering breath, “why won’t you let me take a picture? Every time I try to take one, you steal it away…I don’t even know where one of them went—it just disappeared. Did you take it?”

The fingertips that brushed softly across the inside of her forearm paused, fingers becoming a hand that wrapped firmly around her wrist. Damn, there was that fear again—and the wriggling feeling to the back of her mind.

Jefferson’s other hand moved to Max’s jawline, her chin caught between forefinger and thumb as he lifted her face upward, closer still to his own. Their noses just barely touched, and Max watched wide-eyed from behind _his_ spectacles, as he leaned down—

And the kettle screeched to signify its boiling point.

Max recoiled, hands flying to the edge of the bench, gripping so hard her knuckle bones whitened.

“Oh,” Max laughed breathily, head spinning as she came down off the high she hadn’t known she’d been riding in the first place. “The kettle boiled. Guess that means you should—”

Warm lips crushed hers, and Max gasped in the mouth moving roughly, hurriedly, against her own. The hand that had never left her wrist clenched tighter, his grip almost painful as Jefferson brought her hand back down, encircling it round his middle—or as much of it as she _could_ wrap her tiny arm around, at least. He let go as she gripped at his shirt, a low laugh ghosting across her parted lips as he pulled away just slightly, enough to make eye contact, before leaning back down to claim Max’s mouth in hungry earnest.

She kissed him back clumsily, reminded once more of her own incompetency in the field, of the way her tongue darted out inelegantly to meet his own, only to be driven back in to her own mouth as the man took control of the situation in its entirety. He pressed and prodded at her cheeks, ran along her teeth, along the roof of her mouth. It was warm, so, _so_ warm _._ Max moaned, unable to keep the sound back as he teased her mouth open further, teeth catching at her lower lip and tugging— _hard_.

She wanted to yelp, to cry out at the sudden sunburst of pain his bite elicited, but only managed a harsh, fluttered exhalation, her other arm finding its way around to grasp at his shirt, short nails digging in to his back through the material.

Jefferson’s own body remained about as stationary as his tongue had been up to this point, and Max inhaled sharply as strong arms lifted her up off the barstool, up on to the _tabletop,_ of all things. The smooth, marble surface was cool to touch, and even through her jeans Max could feel the stark contrast between the bench and Jefferson’s hands, lips and tongue.

He moved again, hands pressed heavily to Max’s hips as he dragged her toward the very edge of the tabletop, successfully sandwiching himself between her trembling thighs. He was rougher than before, the mask of composure he had kept up so long having well worn away over time, weathered by every look, every touch, every kiss they had shared. This was not a Mark Jefferson that Max was familiar with—as alien as the near unbearable thrum of heat clenching in her stomach, sparking lightning desire through her veins. The feeling burned her through from head to toe, and with arms wrapped around Jefferson’s neck, parted lips that sought his own as they travelled wetly up her neckline, Max felt herself being burnt to a crisp—felt as she was doused in liquid-hot fire—she was _warm._

 _So_ warm.

…Too warm. Too warm.

Toowarmtoowarmtoowarmtoowarmtoo—

“Max?!”

Heated hands caught her as she slumped sideways, bracing her neck as she fell headfirst in to the counter. Max couldn’t hear what Jefferson said after that, only felt as he shook her shoulders, his hands hot, so hot, _too_ hot, _burning her, why—_

Max passed out.


	12. Bruises

The pain that set Max’s right hand alight was alarming, to say the least. A thousand tiny needles pricking beneath the surface of her palm, Max tried to open her eyes—still closed, considering that darkness was all she could see. Struggling to open her eyes, to move her body, Max abruptly became aware of the fact that it was raining, and she was soaked to the bone.

Very quickly, the darkness began to fade away and Max could open her eyes, not at all expecting what she saw.

Just when had she managed to get outside? The last thing she remembered was Mr. Jefferson, being at his house, and—

Max sat up with a start, neck straining as her head snapped from left to right, taking in her surroundings properly. She was up by the lighthouse, and it was bucketing rain like there was no tomorrow.

Shivering, Max attempted to drag herself up out of the dirt, lifting her gaze to stare up at the clouds overhead. The clouds sat splotchy and bruised against the painted blue-black sky, ferocious and bursting with thick, wet droplets that showered mercilessly down upon the shivering girl.

Just how the _fuck_ had she managed to get _out_ here? _Why_?

Rain-drenched sneakers slipping on slicked stepping-stones as she stumbled along the pathway, headed for the lighthouse and the shelter it offered.

Catching a break in the shrubbery, enough to peer through and look down to Arcadia Bay below, Max was horrified by what she glimpsed.

A hurricane—ten times the size Max had ever seen before in her entire life—surging across the expanse of Arcadia’s cove. It was nearing the bay itself, so close, its almighty gale ripping at the very fringes of the town, tearing at a shack along the shoreline, the jetty she’d seen kids jump from, adults fish off of many a time before.

But the sound. Oh, the _sound_ it made.

It was like the sound of metal against ceramic—the sound knives made as they scraped the plate. Amplify and stack that sound upon itself, looping it over, and over, and over—and that was the sound that Max could hear right now.

If her throat hadn’t closed over, constricting with the burn of overuse, Max never would have known that she’d been screaming. Hands went to her ears, and she cried out in terror. Her right hand continued to throb, encouraged by the deafening onslaught of screeching that engulfed her.

Why was this happening? _How_ could this be happening?

She only just managed to avoid the whip of a branch to her cheek as it tumbled by through the air, though lost her footing and fell in the process.

The shock of the sudden collision with hard ground send lightning pain through Max’s tailbone and up through her spine, forcing the air from her lungs as she swore. Eyes clenched shut against the darkness, and suddenly, just like that, there was nothing. The whip of the gale had ceased, a thousand knives halted in their motion. The world had gone silent.

And then she woke up.

And she remembered.

The glint of Nathan’s gun, the sound of her own screams as Warren was shot, Mr. Jefferson’s soothing voice as he—

As he…

Max sat up, taking in her surroundings. The sleek, refined grey scale of the walls and furniture indicated that she was still in Jefferson’s apartment, though this was a room that she had not glimpsed on the way in. Max spotted the flat screen in the corner, looked down at the couch she sat on, at the fleece blanket pooling across her thighs.

Noticing her bag leant against the sofa just by her feet, Max bent to snatch it up, digging through until fingers brushed the plastic surface of her phone cover.

9:06pm

But that meant…

“You’ve been out for almost three hours, now.”

Max froze at the sound of his voice, blood running cold as her mind was flooded with forgotten memories once more. Slowly, carefully, she looked up to sought out where he had spoken from. She found him by the door, leaning easily against its frame with his arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable. Did he know that she knew? Did he know that she’d remembered? Could he tell?

“What…” she began, voice cracking with disuse. “What happened?”

He raised a brow at this, the tense of his shoulders visible from across the room.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asked slowly, seeming hesitant to speak. “Nothing at all?”

Max stood, letting the rug fall to the floor around her feet. Not once did their eyes break contact, Max resolved to hold her ground from where she stood. Her response was stunted, sharp—and most definitely gave away the truth of the matter at hand.

“No.”

She noted the narrowing of his gaze, the slip of his spectacles down the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward to stare at her a little harder.

He knows.

“Really.”

That wasn’t a question, and Max knew it. Teeth catching the inside of her cheek as she clenched her jaw, Max turned her gaze to the window, seeing just how dark it had become in the time she’d been unconscious.

She remembered their kiss, remembered the way the heat had enveloped her—the throng of pain in her hand as she awoke overlooking the bay.

“You should have woken me up.”

“I tried,” he replied admittedly, and Max tensed as she felt him approach. “You were out cold. Care to explain what happened?”

“I don’t remember,” she turned from the window, staring up at the man now towering over her smaller form. “We were…kissing…and then everything just got really warm—and I don’t remember anything after that.”

The tension in the air was borderline suffocating as the two stared one another down, and it was well over a minute before either of them even blinked. It happened, though, and the moment Jefferson shifted, the moment he exhaled, eyes closing slowly—

Max ran.

She fled quickly through the open door and out in to the corridor, thoughts processing a mile a minute as she located the front door. It was right there, _so close_ , and with a triumphant cry she had it—the door was open, cool night air scalding her cheeks—

And then it was slammed back shut.

Max cried out as her shoulder collided painfully with the door, voice strangling off in to a garble at the fingers wrapping around her throat.

“Max,” Jefferson spoke softly, brushing the bangs from her forehead as he leaned in. “If this is going to work, you need to _trust me_ —and that means no running away.”

Max struggled against the hand at her throat, short nails scratching angry red lines in to Jefferson’s wrist and forearm. Either he didn’t feel it or didn’t care, and the constricting pressure against Max’s windpipe was beginning to make her head spin.

“I’m going to go back, now,” he murmured soothingly, fingers still moving through her hair gently—an unnerving contrast to the hand at her neck. “And we’re going to try this again. And if it doesn’t pan out well…”

“Why?!” Max sputtered, wheezing as she lost feeling in her toes and fingertips. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

He didn’t answer; she hadn’t expected him to. The fingers digging in to her skin disappeared, and Max dropped inelegantly to her hands and knees, coughing sorely. She looked up through disheveled bangs, stomach contorting as Jefferson took a step back and lifted his hand—was he going to strangle her again?

But he didn’t, and when Jefferson held that position a few seconds longer, Max grew confused. He was just…standing there, with his palm up to her.

A moment later and Jefferson dropped his arm, expression twisting angrily.

“You…you’re—”

“Leaving!”

Hit by a sudden burst of adrenaline, Max dragged herself up in a single, rapid motion. She flung the door open once more, and was out of that place and in to the night before Mr. Jefferson had a moment to even consider making a grab for her again. He yelled after her, though the shout fell upon deaf ears as Max was swallowed up by the downpour of rain and the whip of the wind.

She ran all the way back to Blackwell, not once looking back, or stopping to catch her breath—only slowing as she neared the dormitory.

Pushing the doors open quietly, Max snuck through the hall, exhaling the breath she’d been holding for the last good minute as she finally reached her dorm room. Closing the door silently behind herself, the brunette slid all the way down to the carpet, ignoring the puddle pooling beneath her as her sopping wet clothing dripped. Max wrapped her arms around her legs, shivering violently as the cold finally caught up with her.

As a decent amount of breath returned to her lungs, Max began to process what she’d just been through, and realized just how stupid she was. Jefferson hadn’t chased her—he’d _let_ her run away. The man was taller, faster, and stronger than she was—if he wanted her caught, then that was _exactly_ what she’d have been. But if Jefferson could manipulate time—or whatever crazy thing it was that he could do—then why hadn’t he just gone back and tried again?

But wait. When Jefferson had dropped her, he’d said he was going try again, raised his hand, and…

Max stilled, breath catching in her throat as a cold realization dawned upon her.   
_It hadn’t worked._ Why hadn’t it worked?

A shuffling outside her door made Max jump back, recoiling away as she choked on the cry that bubbled in her still sore throat.

“Max?”

 _Oh,_ Max sighed. It was Victoria. Surely the girl hadn’t heard her come in, had she? She’d been quiet enough, so unless Victoria had been _waiting_ for her to return, then—

“I know you’re in there, open up.”

Dammit.

Wincing at the burn in her quadriceps as she stood, Max shuffled over to the door, opening it just a smidge to confirm to Victoria that she was, indeed, in there. The blonde was having none of that though, pushing the door all the way open, knocking Max back a couple steps.

“Victoria,” Max began, slicking her bangs back at the inquisitive once-over the blonde shot her. She probably looked terrible. She really didn’t care right now. “I’m honestly not in the mood to talk right now. Whatever it is, can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

Max tried to close her door, though it was pushed open once more by the increasingly irate blonde, who folded her arms disapprovingly when Max gave in.

“Actually, I was here to see if you were alright. I heard you come in, and…”

Max sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head was beginning to hurt—depleted energy and emptied adrenaline now starting to catch up with her.

“Look, Victoria. You don’t have to pretend behind closed doors that we’re friends—there’s no one around to see how ‘kind’ and ‘caring’ you’re being right now. I know you don’t actually give a fuck, so don’t even bother, okay?”

Folded arms fell from Victoria’s chest, the heat in her stare fizzling out as she tried to speak.

“Max, I—”

“Don’t,” Max warned, pain prickling in her throat as she raised her own voice. “I know why you wanted to work at the café. I always knew the reason why—but you should know by now that you’re wasting your time. It doesn’t matter how nice you are to me—I can’t make Mr. Jefferson like you. Not the way you want him to, at least. Life just doesn’t work that way.”

Victoria looked as though she’d been punched in the gut, eyes wide, mouth agape as she stared at Max. It almost looked as though she wanted to cry, and Max almost began to feel bad for what she’d said. Gathering up the remaining strands of her shredded dignity, Victoria averted her gaze, shoulders slumping in a defeated manner.

“Honestly, Max…that’s not even why I’m here. I came to check on you, because I _wanted to see if you were okay._ But,” shoulders lifted, and the steely expression returned. “I can see you’re doing just fine. I’ll leave you alone, now. For good.”

The blonde backtracked to her own open door, pausing in the doorway. She spoke once more, though didn’t turn around.

“Oh, and for the record, Max? I know he’ll never care about me…not like he cares about you, anyway.”

“Victoria—”

“I’d rather you didn’t, Max. Goodnight.”

The door closed and Max was left standing in the hallway alone, feeling totally confused about everything that had just transpired.

Gritting her teeth, Max stormed back in to her room, jacket dropping with a wet _thud!_ as it slid from her shoulders. Max moved about her room clumsily, trying to remove her shirt and jeans as she went, snatching up a clean shirt and sweatpants as she went. Tugging on the spare trainers she kept in her closet, Max threw open the door, not bothering to be discreet anymore as it slammed on back its hinges.

Making her way in to the boys dormitory, Max headed straight for Nathan’s door, thankful that the bad weather seemed to be keeping everyone in their rooms tonight.

She knocked, stepping back a little as she waited for Nathan to answer. He didn’t, and after a few minutes, Max began to grow impatient. Not _everyone_ , then. Raising her fist to knock just once more for luck, Max stiffened at the sound of someone approaching, turning as her name was spoken.

“Max?”

It was Nathan—thank God—and if his wet hair and the towel around his neck were anything to go by, the boy had just come from the showers.

For a moment, neither said anything, simply staring each other down in the dim light of the hallway. Finally, Nathan broke the silence.

“What are you doing here, Max?”

His voice, though quiet, held a defensive lilt to it—and Max bristled some.

“I came to talk—and I know you know why, so don’t even try to pretend otherwise.”

Max saw as his confusion shifted in to realization, noted the way his eyes narrowed, the shadows cast by the nearby window darkening his features significantly.

“Max,” he said slowly, and the brunette flinched at the sound of her own name. “I can’t help you. It doesn’t matter what I do or say—I _can’t_.”

Reminded of her own conversation with Victoria just beforehand, Max almost snorted. The irony was not lost upon her, and confirmed that Max did indeed feel sorry for the blonde girl. It had been a rough night for Max, and she had taken that out on Victoria. Perhaps she should apologize in the near future? That was, if Victoria ever wanted to speak to her again.

“Nathan,” she tried, taking a slow step toward Nathan. He didn’t move, and she took this as a sign to continue. “There’s no one else that can help me—you’re the only one. I was at Mr. Jefferson’s just now, and—”

“Wait,” Nathan cut her off, hand raising to silence anything else she was about to say. “Tell me I heard that wrong—you didn’t really just say that you were with that guy _alone_ —”

“I know, I know—if you let me in, I’ll tell you everything. _Please_ , Nathan—you know this is important. I can’t figure this out alone.”

Nathan dragged a hand through his hair, swearing colourfully as he turned away. Max waited. A minute later he turned back, and the look on his face told Max exactly what she’d hoped.

“Fine.”

Opening his door, Nathan motioned for Max to follow. A lamp at his bedside brought light to the room, and Max was quick to take in her surroundings as she stepped in. The projector set up on the left-most wall was awing, though when taking in to consideration just how wealthy Nathan was, unsurprising. His choice in art décor, however…

Max glanced over at where Nathan had slouched down on to his bed, rubbing the towel through his wet hair. He was staring, and when the fact that she had noticed didn’t make him stop staring, she had to ask why.

“Because,” he dropped the towel to the floor, motioning for Max to sit on the nearby sofa. “I think you should leave worrying about my kinks for another time. There are way more important things than what I’m in to that you should be focusing on—like the fact that you were in that fuckers house, for example. Wanna start explaining that one?”

“O-oh,” Max stuttered, blushing lightly at the confirmation that the artwork lining Nathan’s walls actually did indeed depict images of BDSM. When she didn’t continue straight away, Nathan sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“I have all night, loser. Do you?”

Biting her lip, Max averted her gaze. She had no idea when next Jefferson would try something—and the thought that he could be out there right now, _waiting_ for her…

Steeling her resolve, Max moved to sit down on the sofa Nathan had motioned to beforehand, fists clenched in her lap as she focused all of her attention on him.

“Alright. I’ll tell you everything.”

 

To his credit, Nathan had not said a single word the entire time Max had been recapping everything that had transpired over the last few weeks—which Max was grateful for. It had been a lot to explain—and trying to find the words to describe what she’d been through with Mr. Jefferson…

“And then that’s when I showed up here,” Max finished with a sigh, the relief of finally having shared everything with someone a wonderful feeling indeed. She’d never pictured that that person would be _Nathan,_ of all people, but…the guy had turned out to be a surprisingly diligent listener.

For several long moments, Nathan didn’t speak. He had long since changed seating positions, and now sat cross-legged to the end of the bed, closer to Max than he had been before. Laced hands covered his mouth as he seemingly processed all that had been said, and Max waited, allowing him time to think.

Finally, hands fell away from his face, and Nathan lifted his eyes to meet Max’s.

“Two things. First, you’re a fucking idiot, and there’s a good chance that you’re probably gonna die in the next seven days.”

Max slumped, opening her mouth to defend herself. A single hand raised to cut her off, and Nathan waited until Max had closed her mouth and resettled in to the couch before saying any more.

“Second…everything you’ve been seeing—the birds, the whales, the storm—all that crap? Real.”

Max fidgeted uncomfortably. So she wasn’t going crazy, then?

“But why am I the only one who can see it?”

“You already know why. It’s a vision—it hasn’t happened yet. But it’s getting worse, right?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Max nodded slowly.

“Well, what do you expect?” Nathan shook his head, his tone almost sounding like one of exasperation. “I tried to tell you—but you were stupid enough to not only ignore my warnings, but go and do the worst thing I can think of. Idiot.”

Insults had lost all meaning by this point, and Max simply didn’t hear them or didn’t care, nowadays.

“So Mr. Jefferson can rewind time, then?” It sounded so weird to say out loud, so ridiculously unbelievable. Max herself was having a hard time believing it—and if Nathan hadn’t just confirmed that everything she thought was all just in her head was real, she would still be refusing to believe it was true.

“It’s…more complicated than that,” Nathan sighed. “There’s so much you don’t know—too much to even tell.”

“I’m involved in all of this, for whatever reason—I need to know why. I need to know what’s going on.”

The boy looked at Max hesitantly, before averting his gaze to the carpeting, rubbing a hand through his hair. It was a mess—sticking up in all sorts of odd angles, and if the situation had been any lighter Max may have even laughed.

“Long story short, you were right. He can rewind and freeze time—but can’t go forward. That time at the beach—he froze everything but you, right?”

Max shuddered as the unpleasant memory resurfaced—Warren and Nathan fighting, Warren getting shot…and then, waking up to find out none of it had ever happened.

“But why me? And how do you even know all of this?”

“The whole time traveller thing isn’t permanent. Eventually, it goes away—but it doesn’t just disappear…it’s like…like a virus, I think. It moves from person to person, and you know you’re next when you start getting visions. You start seeing things, remembering things that never happened.”

“But that means…” Max looked down at her hands, disbelieving. If what Nathan was saying was true, then… “I’m supposed to be next?”

Nathan frowned, almost looking apologetic as he nodded.

“You should have left when you had the chance. It’s probably too late now. If Jefferson’s powers aren’t working on you anymore—then he’s probably just going to kill you, or go back and try again.”

“But if the powers don’t work—”

“I know. He never let it get this far before—there’s still shit even I don’t know, okay?”

“Then how do you know any of this in the first place? Jefferson is the one with the powers—why do you know?”

Nathan appeared uncomfortable, and all at once, very, very tired.

“You know how I said the whole time travelling thing passes from person to person? The last person to have it before Jefferson did…was my grandfather. I don’t know _when_ exactly he got it, or _who_ had it before that, all I know is that it’s one of the reasons my family is so wealthy. He was old though—and the day he died, he told me the name of the person it was gonna pass on to next. He knew—he’d seen it, like Jefferson saw you. But once he died—everyone just…forgot.”

“Except for you,” Max said quietly. Nathan nodded, tucking his knees up under his chest.

“Jefferson must have been in Arcadia when he got the powers—no one outside of this place gets them, according to what my grandfather knew. I never saw him though—not until this year. I think he came back because he saw a vision of you taking his powers—and that’s when he came to me. He told me he knew my grandfather had the powers before him—that he knew I knew. Since then, he’s been going back and forth in time, trying to figure out how to take your powers, and there have been times where I’ve…helped.”

Max raised an eyebrow, noticing the way the boy hadn’t elaborated on that last part.

“What do you mean?”

Nathan shrugged, averting his gaze.

“I don’t know—I told you, even I don’t know everything. I guess knowing the truth just makes me useful, I guess.”

“Okay….there are a few things I still don’t get, though. If everything you’re saying is true, then…that ‘dream’ I had—where you kissed me, and Jefferson shot you…”

Nathan’s attention was back on Max again, his mouth quirking in to a half smile—though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s what you’re thinking about? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It was a serious question,” Max snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “You said Jefferson has been going back in time trying to figure out how to stop me getting his powers, and that you help—I thought maybe some of it was connected.”

Looking incredibly uncomfortable, Nathan sighed through his teeth, hands moving to cover his face.

“Every time he’s gone back, we’ve tried something new…and the last time we tried something…”

“Just say it, Nathan.”

Dropping his hands to his lap, Nathan glanced up at the girl through disheveled hair, his expression unreadable.

“Before the last rewind, you and I were together.”

Max blinked slowly, anything she could have possibly said going out the window as she attempted to process what had just been said.

“Together…as in we were…dating?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Nathan grimaced, knees tucking back up in to his chest again. “Jefferson thought if I could get close to you, and convince you to just leave Arcadia Bay, that you’d never start getting the visions. It didn’t work, obviously—you refused to leave, and the asshole ran out of patience.”

“…Oh. So that’s why you…but wait—if that’s true, then why did Jefferson shoot you when you…?”

“That wasn’t the plan this time round,” Nathan sighed, burying his face in to his knees. “I compromised everything—and he killed me for it. I’m still useful though, so I guess until I stop being useful, he’s just going to keep on killing me and rewinding. One day though, he’s going to shoot me and then just…walk away. No rewind, no nothing. I’ll die, and it wont matter to anyone.”

Hesitantly, Max lifted her hand, leaning forward a little to touch her fingertips lightly to Nathan’s knee. He stiffened, though did not move otherwise.

“It would matter to me. And Victoria, too—she cares a lot about you.”

Lifting his head, Nathan nodded slowly.

“I know that…”

They sat in silence after that, Max processing everything Nathan had told her, and Nathan…doing whatever it was he was doing.

It all sounded so crazy, but…what other explanation did Max have? Nathan was aware of events Max had believed to be dreams—she _knew_ she’d woken up with blanks in her memories, knew for a fact that her ‘dreams’ were too vivid to be just that. And if all of this was real—everything Nathan had said, then…she had never meant anything to Jefferson. This was all just pretend to him—a way of manipulating and taking the powers apparently destined to be hers in the near future. The stares, the smiles, the kisses…none of it had ever been real.

Max shivered, nails biting in to her palms as she clenched her fists.

“…What am I supposed to do?”

“What I’ve been trying to say from the beginning. Leave.”

Max frowned, shaking her head.

“I thought you said it was too late.”

“To stop the transfer of power? Probably. But if you get away now, if _he_ doesn’t find you in time…then that’ll be it. There wont be anything else he can do, and he’ll have to give up.”

“I can’t just… _leave_. It’s not that simple. Where would I even go? What would I tell my parents? What about Blackwell?”

“Max,” Nathan was on his feet abruptly, hands balled in to tight fists at his sides as he glared at her. “You’re not listening to me—like fucking always. Don’t you get it? If you don’t leave—Jefferson will kill you. If he doesn’t do it now, he’ll do it eventually—there’s only so many times he’ll go back and try again.”

“Well why didn’t he just kill me in the first place, and be done with it?” Max shot back, rising to stand on Nathan’s level.

Nathan threw his hands up in exasperation, raking fingers through his hair as he turned away.

“How the fuck should I know? He obviously doesn’t want to have to kill you—but if he has no problem killing me, then eventually, he won’t hesitate to kill you either. So there’s your choice. Leave, or die.”

“I won’t leave. And I won’t let Mr. Jefferson kill me, either.”

Nathan didn’t answer, back still turned to Max.

“…You’re an idiot.”

Max sighed, rubbing her neck. It was going to bruise. She would have to wear something to cover it the next day. Hopefully the weather would stay shitty, so she wouldn’t have to come up with some lame excuse as to why she was wearing a scarf when there wasn’t a single rain cloud in the sky.

Another hand pressed to her neck, and Max jumped, blushing when she realized that Nathan was standing right in front of her. When had he gotten there? Had she really zoned out that badly? Nathan wasn’t looking at her face, though, examining instead the bruising likely already beginning to form alone her collar.

“Pretty,” he sighed quietly, so quiet that Max almost didn’t catch it. She wanted to ask more questions—there was still so much she was confused about, that she didn’t understand. Everything hurt—both physically and mentally, but she wasn’t the only one hurting here.

“You and I were together.”

Nathan had kissed her in her dream—no, before Jefferson had rewound time. If he’d done that then, did that mean that he still…?

“Nathan…”

The hand pressed to her neck disappeared, and the boy stepped back, gaze downcast.

“You should go.”

Nodding, Max moved toward the door, Nathan following to open it for her. Slipping out in to the dark hall, Max hesitated, turning back to face the boy now leaning in the doorway.

“Thank you. For everything.”

Nathan shrugged, folding his arms across his chest nonchalantly.

“Yeah, well don’t tell anyone that we—”

“Max?”

Max turned, a feeling of dread welling in the pit of her stomach.

“Warren…”

His own door swung wide open, Warren stood in the hall, toothbrush in hand as he stared. His attention wasn’t on Max though—and Max turned to glance at Nathan, still standing in his doorway, and realized what Warren must be thinking.

“Warren, I can explain—”

“Actually, Max,” Warren cut her off, voice shaky as he retreated back into his room. “I think that last line told me all I needed to know.”

And just like that, Warren’s door was slammed shut. Gaping, Max swiveled back to face Nathan, grimacing.

“What?” he frowned back, raising his hands as though to say, _‘what do you want me to do about it?’_

Groaning, Max rubbed her eyes, far too tired to be doing this anymore. Saying goodbye to Nathan for the final time, Max snuck back in to the girl’s dorms, shutting her door and turning the lights on. She had almost expected Jefferson to be there waiting for her—but thankfully, he wasn’t. Her wet clothes were still there though, bunched up in a soggy mess on the carpet—and with a sigh, Max threw them over the window sill. She’d worry about that in the morning.

Kicking her shoes off, Max fell tiredly in to bed, checking the clock as she settled. It read 1:04am—she’d been out longer than she’d thought. Running over everything she’d talked about with Nathan once more, Max pulled the sheets up to her chin, shivering at the cold again. Why did everything have to be this way? Why did she have to be the one caught up in crazy people with powers, and dreams, and visions, and—

Hold on a minute.

Nathan had explained all but one thing.

What was the storm?


	13. Welcome to Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...it's been a while, everyone. Quite frankly, this chapter did my head in - and there were points where I just didn't want to finish it at all. I've known how I wanted to end this fanfic all along ever since I decided to make it more than a oneshot, but it still kills me to have to finish it up this way. Before all that though, I want to thank everyone who's read this fic, whether you've been waiting on me since the beginning for updates, or whether you've jumped on the wagon recently, I thank you all for the incredible support and comments I've received - without them, this fanfic would not have been possible. While this story is coming to a close, have no fear - there will be others, perhaps not following the Max and company of this universe, but we will have to see what comes in due time, won't we? I have plans!...sort of. Without further ado, please enjoy the final chapter of Coffee Shop, and remember - feedback, questions and comments are always, ALWAYS welcome! Yuki, over and out!

Waking up the next morning, Max was almost surprised to find herself still alive—and in her own bed, no less. A miracle of miracles.

Preparing for the day ahead fell in to a blur. It was only the harsh shove of Victoria’s shoulder sending her sprawling in to Kate that really shook Max from her sleep.

Kate worried, despite Max insisting that she was fine. She most certainly was not fine, but Kate didn’t need to know that.

Passing through the bustling corridors, Max spied a painfully familiar face.

“Warren!”

The boy stilled in his lean against the lockers, lips pressing in to a firm line as he stared her way.

“Warren, I—”

“Max, I know what you’re gonna say, and honestly? I don’t want to hear it. Don’t sweat it, alright?”

Warren pushed off the locker, thrusting his hands in to his jacket pockets.

“You don’t have to apologise, Max. I get it. Chat another time, okay?”

And with nothing to say that could possibly fix this situation, Max let him go without saying another word.

“Max,” Kate began warningly, sounding at the ends of her tether. Max couldn’t blame her. Asserting her friend once more that everything was okay, Max loosely promised to tell Kate everything at a later date. They both knew that that was a lie, though neither said so.

Following Kate in to class, Max went out of her way to avoid the keen eye of their mentor. She knew full well that if she glanced up, he would be looking her way. Though relieved that she had made it thus far, Max couldn’t help but wonder about why he had not done anything yet. It was already understood that the man could freeze time if he so wished—so why had he not yet done so? If Jefferson really wanted Max gone that badly, she’d have been dead ages ago…but she wasn’t.

The time passed slowly; Jefferson questioned the class between content providence, and Max prayed that he did not pick her.

To her own relief, Max's prayers were answered. At the first ring of the bell, Max jumped up to flee the classroom quick as she possibly could without drawing attention.

“Max.”

Ah, of course. It couldn’t have been that easy, could it?

Backtracking away from the door, and away from her only escape, Max turned to face the taller figure standing over her. His expression was worn, black rimming brown eyes, mouth turned down ever so slightly in to a tight-lipped grimace.

The expression of distaste did not lessen, nor did it deepen as Max herself approached the man. Max was unsure as to whether this effected the status of her current position for better or worse, and this in itself was very worrying.

“Your Everyday Heroes entry—”

“I haven’t got one yet.”

Max knew by the quirk of his brow that sass would gain her no ground, though by this point, did it really matter all that much?

“Which is _why_ ,” Jefferson continued, “I would like to take some time to discuss the contest with you.”

“Right,” Max sighed, pushing hair from her eyes. When he did not elaborate however, Max took the silence as a prompt. He was letter her decide when and where.

Picturing the idea of yet another restless night waiting for the inevitable, Max decided that to put things off would only make matters worse.

“I’m working the closing shift at work today.”

The quirk of his lips was impossible to miss.

“Excellent. I’ll stop by later this afternoon, then.”

Max nodded soberly, not listening all that tentatively by this point. Wanting nothing more than to leave, she turned—though the touch of warmth to her wrist provoked the girl to whirl back around and face her mentor. He was smirking, and at the fingers dancing along the length of the scarf draped heavily across her shoulders, Max had an inkling as to why. His hand travelled up the scarf, warm fingers pressing briefly to the strip of Max’s skin still visible beneath thick blue wool. The contact reminded the girl instantaneously of the blotchy blue-purple bruises she’d discovered flowering along her neckline that morning. Max jerked back, moving to bat Jefferson’s hand away instinctually.

A mixture of hurt and confusion seemed to pool within his brown eyes, though upon seeing this, Max could not bring herself to remain alone with him in the room any longer. She left, and he did not stop her.

 xxxxx

The school day could not have drawn to a close any quicker. Max took her time in the process of packing her back and filling her locker, ignoring the bored looks and half-curious glances she received for her sluggish pace—many likely believed it was almost as though Max _wanted_ to prolong her time within the school. If only they knew. Actually, scratch that—if anybody else knew, they’d think Max to be a crazy person, and have her shipped off to one of those straight-jacket institutions where she’d be spoon-fed unidentifiable mush, and be forced in to uncomfortable social situations with other ‘recovering patients’.

There was only so many times you could pack and unpack your locker before it began to look a little deranged, though, and Max knew it was time to go.

The bus was alighted just one street over from Max’s workplace. Shivering in to the scarf still wrapped securely around her neck, Max closed the final stretch at a quickened pace, her need to search out warmth far outweighing the urge to buy time and procrastinate the inevitable. Sparing a glance up at the buzzing sign overhead the café, Max did not see the hand that reached for her from the nearby narrow passage, and was too late to pull away as it found purchase in the grey material of her jacket, dragging Max out of the street and in to the alleyway.

“Get your fucking hands off—”

“Max!”

Max stopped squirming, her raised fist losing directive when she realised that she knew this voice—and oh, it was Nathan, and Nathan wasn’t someone that may or may not want her dead, was he?

“Jesus, Nathan,” Max said breathily, shrugging her shoulders back in to her dishevelled jacket. “What the heck are you doing sneaking around the back alley to where I work?”

“Why do you think?” Nathan grimaced, thrusting white-knuckled fists in to his hooded parka.

Realising what Nathan meant, Max rolled her eyes, mirroring his actions unconsciously.

“I told you already, I’ll be fine—”

“And I told you already, Jefferson is going to kill you. Do you know what that means, Max? You’re dead. No rewind, no second chance—nothing. Not for the you of this time, anyway.”

Seeing how worked up this was getting Nathan, Max felt the twinge of uncertainty she’d been pushing down the entire day resurface, an unpleasant garble to the back of her throat.

Oh wait, no—that was actual vomit.

Rushing to a nearby empty crate, Max emptied her already bottomed-out stomach, retching for several long moments before she finally felt sure enough that sudden movement would not bring up any remaining bile.

Nathan remained rooted to the spot, though the look he shot Max was one of sympathy.

“Not so fine then, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Max grumbled, wiping her mouth on the inside of her jacket. Gross, and she’d only just washed this one, too.

“You don’t have time either way,” Nathan shrugged, jerking his head toward the café. “He’s already in there waiting for you.”

Another wave of nausea. Swallowing thickly, Max shuddered, managing to keep it down this time.

“…If you want me to stay—”

“I don’t need you to—”

“ _If_ ,” Nathan cut her off, “you want me to hang around, I’ll do it. Don’t know what good it’ll do, but if it helps…”

Max frowned, searching Nathan’s expression for clarification. He had turned away, though, a hand rubbing across his eyes tiredly.

“Why?”

“Guilt, mostly.”

“Ouch.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Nathan snapped, though the usual bite was gone. “I feel like, I don’t know…after all the bullshit he—we’ve put you through, this is the least I can do. It might not change what happens next, but right _now_ , I want to feel like I finally did something good. Something I know is good.”

At this, Max didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected Nathan’s response to be so heartfelt—so truthful. It hurt a little to think about, and Max didn’t entirely know why.

“Nathan…”

“Don’t thank me,” Nathan shook his head, anticipating Max’s imminent appreciation. “ _Never_ thank me. Not after everything I’ve done.”

Biting her lip, Max silently agreed. Despite everything Nathan had done—all the things she was both aware and unaware of—Max knew in her heart that he deserved more than thanks.

Stepping away from the blonde, Max turned to leave, not expecting the hand at her wrist to pull her back in. She felt his chest at her back, the warm ghost of breath at her neck.

“I’ll be nearby—if you see me, grab my hand, and don’t look back.”

Swallowing down the lump forming in her throat at the soft caress of Nathan’s whisper, Max left the darkness of the ally to step out in to the golden glow of the lowering sun. It was now or never.

Bell tinkling overhead, Max took a moment to scan the surrounding tables. A familiar head of brown hair caught her eye from the back corner of the shop, bent low and faced away from Max’s general direction. Max wagered he knew it was she who had entered—how that was possible, Max didn’t know, but it was. Stranger things had happened.

It was quiet—the late afternoon shift often was. Chatter was set to a low, pleasant hum, music from the speakers above drifting easily throughout the room.

“You’re early,” one of Max’s co-workers said as Max moved behind the counter, grabbing a free apron off the hook as she passed through.

“Well, it never kills to be on time, right?”

Max kept her gaze firmly set upon the other woman as she spoke. He was watching. She knew it. She could feel it. It was…maddening.

Time passed from there onwards at an excruciating pace, and Max found as her shift neared a close, she had made more mistakes this shift than she had the entire rest of the time she’d been working at the establishment.

And he noticed, of course. Every trip over the rubber carpet connecting the kitchen to the café, every cup of tea spilling on to its saucer, burning her fingers, and every slice of citrus cake dropped upon the tiles—Jefferson bore witness to it all.

And each time she slipped up, he would smile this little blink-and-you-might-miss-it kind of smile. It set Max afire, boiling her blood. She wanted to punch that stupid smug look right off his too-pretty face. No—pretty? What was she thinking, this was the man who had killed her before, who could very well kill her _again_ if she—”

“Max, order for table eight—and please try to get the coffee all the way there before you drop it all over the carpet, okay?”

“Oh—r-right!”

She had to stop thinking about this. About him. It was meaningless, and most importantly, _dangerous_. Max had seen this man kill before—had seen him headshot Nathan without batting an eye. And his power…the power to _reverse time_ …how was she supposed to get anywhere while the very concept of time was like a bad joke to the man?

Time passed, Max worried, and the café emptied—deserted of all patrons (except for one man, that was) just shy of five-thirty.

“You all good to finish up and close shop?” Max’s co-worker asked on her way out, hesitating at the door. The way her fingers brushed rapidly across her screen, and the edginess in her stance told Max that she really didn’t have much of a choice. And so she waved the girl off, a fake smile plastered across her face as an added reassurance. The other woman nodded distractedly, halfway out the door—

When all of a sudden, she froze.

The open door did not swing back, thumbs hovered just over the phone, and her mouth sat open as though ready to speak.

But she didn’t.

Nothing happened. Nothing moved.

“It’s as I suspected,” Jefferson’s deep voice made Max jump, “this doesn’t have any effect on you anymore.”

Swallowing nervously, Max glanced back and forth between Jefferson and her frozen co-worker still standing by the open door. Was this confirmation, then? Did Jefferson’s power really not work on Max anymore?

“…You didn’t have to do that,” Max grumbled, surprising herself with just how nonchalant she sounded. “I was finishing up just now anyways.”

“I know,” Mr. Jefferson shrugged a single shoulder, removing his glasses and folding them neatly upon the table. “But I still had to check and see. You don’t seem at all surprised by any of this.”

“Honestly? Too tired to be all that surprised right now.”

“I see.”

The flat level of Jefferson’s tone bugged Max. For a man who was likely very annoyed by the fact that Max was stealing his powers away while he had no clue how to stop it, Mark Jefferson was unreasonably calm. To be fair, they both knew that Jefferson could very easily just go back, or shoot her and be done with it. Yet still, he hadn’t done that, and Max still had no idea why. Nathan had confirmed that everything between them had had to have been a lie, and yet…

“I really don’t want to have to kill you.”

Max dropped a teapot. Grimacing down at the silly broken thing, Max redirected her glare upwards toward her mentor.

“What?” he raised a single brow, “don’t look at me—I can’t do anything about that.”

The up and down of this conversation was beginning to make Max’s head hurt.

“Whatever,” Max sighed in defeat, stepping over the broken ceramic pieces and leaving the protection of the counter to sit across from Jefferson. He wasn’t looking at her anymore though, attention having since returned back to his tea.

“So,” Jefferson spoke, still not looking up at her. Max bit her inner cheek, fists white-knuckled in her lap. “Your surprise up to this point as been unusually mild, and so,” Jefferson lifted his eyes to meet Max’s, “one can only assume that you’ve been speaking to someone. How much has Nathan Prescott told you?”

“Nathan hasn’t—”

Max slapped a hand over her mouth before she could stop herself, the involuntary movement only serving to make Max appear even more guilty than she felt right now. She had just foolishly ratted Nathan out. Shit.

“ _Max_ ,” Jefferson sighed wearily, lowering the cup from his lips. “I think it’s about time for the both of us to be completely honest with one another—no more lies.”

“Fine,” Max retorted, “but if that’s the case, then I want you to tell me the truth about this.”

“This?”

“ _That_ ,” Max gestured to the girl still frozen by the door. “It’s true that Nathan did clear a couple of things up, but that was it. He said there’s a lot even he doesn’t know—questions that only you know the answers to.”

“Very well,” Jefferson nodded soberly, lacing long fingers atop the table, leaning in a little with the motion. “You will be the first and last person that I have the pleasure of explaining this to, then. If you have any questions, ask away.”

“Okay…then, why me? Is there some sort decision that gets made that affects who gets this ‘power’ next? Or is it just random?”

“As a simple recipient amongst likely a very long line of men and women who have both gained and lost this power over the generations, I can’t tell you exactly how the choice is made of who gets it next. I do believe, however, that each recipient that follows the last must be connected to the immediate previous and future power users by something. Call it fate, if you will.”

“Fate?” Max raised an eyebrow. “But I only just came back to Arcadia Bay at the start of the year—we met just _months_ ago.”

“And you stepped in as an aspiring, well-off student of mine with a natural gift for photography. Do you truly believe that it was only this power of mine that drew us together?”

Max averted her gaze, brow furrowing. _Then power or no, Jefferson would have still…?_

“Perhaps the nature of our relationship may have been a little different, but if we are to believe that fate is true, things may have not turned out so differently after all.”

Shrugging half-heartedly, Max kept her eyes down, looking to Jefferson’s glasses folded neatly by his hands. She was never going to get any of those photo’s back, was she?

“As it goes,” Jefferson continued, “you weren’t actually the first one this gift was supposed to pass on to after myself.”

Now this got Max’s attention. _There had been someone else before her? How?_

“What do you…?”

“Like you, she had a gift,” Jefferson sighed, his tone almost sounding…fond? “Brave, talented, beautiful…but stupid. Very, very stupid.”

“But then what happened to—oh.”

Realisation of the truth hit Max like a bus.

 _Oh_.

“There were a few things I realised and understood after that,” Jefferson murmured bleakly. “When I saw her disappear from the visions, only to replaced straight after by you, I realised that the chain was likely infinite. There would always be another. Someone else to replace those unable to carry on down the line. I don’t claim to be a good man, Max. I’m a bad person. But in this world, where fate stakes claim to everything we know—those who are good are never the ones to survive.

“So you _kill_ people?” Max shot back, pushing away from the table. Her chair squeaked, causing them both to wince. “You couldn’t just accept the fact that your time was up, and let that girl take what was supposed to be hers?”

“Her beliefs were impractical,” Jefferson retorted, also moving to stand as Max had. Now towering over her, Max felt the twinge of uncertainty within her stomach begin to pulse nervously, beating like a second heart fuelled only by fear.

“You didn’t give her a chance.”

“ _She_ gave _me_ no choice!”

Taking in the tension in his shoulders, the clench of his fists, Max could see that Jefferson was beginning to rile. If she continued to push like this, there was a very likely chance that she would die.

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?”

His anger faltered.

“What?”

“Last time I checked, prolonging this only made things much worse for both of us. If you killed that girl—whoever she was—so easily, why haven’t you just killed me too?”

“You say that as though murder is something so easily gotten away with.”

“Considering the fact that you’ve killed Nathan on more than one occasion, I’d say yeah, it kind of is for you.”

Jefferson froze, mouth open as though he had been ready to rebut her argument, though could no longer find the words to say.

Well, that was certainly one way to push the wrong button.

Shoving Jefferson away as he lunged at her, Max made a dash for the door, realising all at once that her co-worker was still in the doorway. Of _course_ , that was why Jefferson had frozen time when he had—to trap Max. Little did he know…

Lifting her hand, palm forward, Max snapped her jaw shut tight and hoped for the best.

And nothing happened.

“Shit—”

The impact of slamming in to another body at full-force hit Max hard, and she stumbled to catch herself on the doorhandle, head spinning. The other girl fell boneless to the ground, the sound of her head cracking over a table corner forcing a shuddering sob from Max’s lungs, choked upon as Max fled from the café.

She ran out in to the street, near on jumping out of her skin as time suddenly started up again—

And a horn blared as a small white car veered from the road and crashed in to a nearby fish-and-chips in order to narrowly avoid hitting Max, barrelling through the glass screen and in to the shop itself.

Whipping back around toward the café, Max glimpsed Jefferson exiting just for a moment before she had turned to start running again. The half-second look at his expression told Max all she needed to know, though.

Max was going to die.

Sneakers slapping heavily against the footpath as she ran, Max rounded a corner and crossed the road, slurring a long flurry of curse words as cars and pedestrians were immobilised. She was _really_ going to need to get used to that—and _fast_.

Weaving through the frozen people-statues along the sidewalk proved to be even more difficult than when they had been moving—she was fearful of bumping them, and would most certainly not be risking the roads again.

“Dammit,” Max huffed, raising a hand instinctually as she dodged a tall man only to almost steamroll over a young girl—only narrowly avoiding that collision by twisting out of the way, tripping over her own feet in the process. _“Fucking move!”_

Falling over herself and with no time to stop her face smashing in to the pavement, Max yelped in shock as she was caught by the hook of an elbow looping under her armpit.

“Whoa—are you okay, miss?”

Gasping up at the stranger who had caught her, Max straightened immediately, looking around confusedly.

Either that had been insanely lucky timing, or…she had done that.

Thanking the man who prompted Max on her condition again, she set off running again, glancing around for any sign of Mr. Jefferson.

The sun was beginning to set dangerously low upon the horizon, and it was several long minutes before anything stopped again. Did that mean Max had been correct to assume she had been the one to kick-start time—it most certainly would have given Jefferson reason to hesitate.

Either way, thinking too deeply at current was a bad idea, for now Max just had to—

“Max!”

As everything around her began to move again, Max heard her name called across the street.

Looking left, Max glimpsed a familiar red jacket and blonde head of hair, and felt herself picking up speed to cross the intersection without a second thought. They met half-way, and Max could not have been more relieved in that moment to be running in to Nathan.

“Nathan!”

“You idiot! I told you to—watch out!”

Nathan screamed, dragging Max down by her hoodie at the horrifyingly familiar sound of a gunshot. Dread replaced the fear bubbling in Max’s chest, and had they been in any less of a pinch, she would likely have taken a moment to further empty her stomach of the nothingness it contained.

Looking up through her hair, Max could see Jefferson’s approaching figure, saw the silver glint of a pistol in his hand as he drew closer. He was going to shoot them. They were going to die.

_I’m sorry Nathan, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t—_

Cold pressure pushed at her wrist, a palm smoothing over her own to tangle their fingers together. Max looked to Nathan, to his hand twined with her own, and bit her lip.

Hearing the tell-tale click of the gun, Max whirled, body not her own as she lifted her free hand, palm up, as Jefferson pulled the trigger.

Max could feel it at her fingertips—the pull and push of air flow around them as time began to slow, all at once grinding to an inconceivable stop.

Jefferson had pulled the trigger, Max knew she had not been in time to stop him—but the _bullet_ …

Max saw as Jefferson’s jaw dropped, fingers slipping in their tight grip of the gun, at the sight of the bullet he had just shot just as immobile as the people around them.

“How did you—”

“Fuck off!”

Max jumped as Nathan punched Jefferson roughly, his power taking the taller man by surprise as he lost his footing and was sent sprawling across the bitumen.

“Nathan—”

“Run now, talk later, got it?”

Nathan didn’t wait for Max’s answer as he grabbed her by the hand, taking off down the street. Despite the stop-start of time, the sun had very well disappeared, the last of its light blocked out by the cluster of greying storm-clouds forming overhead.

“Where do we go?” Max huffed as they ran, eyes blinking shut now and then as the wind whipped at her cheeks and sent her jacket flurrying behind.

“The Prescott mansion, if we can make it! We have guns, my father has to help us!”

The thought of running for who knew how long set Max’s worn muscles aflame, and she glanced around for someone or something that could possibly aid them. Noticing up ahead a man who had been frozen stepping in to his car, Max had an idea.

“What if we drove there?”

Nathan looked to where Max pointed, shaking his head in to the wind.

“I don’t know if the whole contact thing works the same for cars and shit like it does for people, and we don’t have enough time to find out. Jefferson will be on our asses any second now, we can’t—”

The sound of not so far off gunfire cut Nathan off, and both Max and Nathan clamped their mouths shut tight and picked up their pace.

Leading them down a side street, Nathan stopped abruptly to glance around, cursing when he did not seem to find what he was looking for. A tug at Max’s hand and they were moving again, though by the rapid left-right rotation of Nathan’s gaze, he was still searching.

“Nathan,” Max finally huffed after the blonde had stopped them for a third time. “What are you looking for?”

“A storm shelter. Shit—why do none of these shitholes have one? Fuck!”

Nathan led them quickly through a quiet street, keeping to the shadows as best he could. They were nearing the beach now—the air had grown thick with the smell of seaweed and salt, and Max could hear the crash of waves against the gritty shore. She remembered the time she had spent at the beach with her friends—the volleyball game with Warren and Nathan, the conversation they’d had by the lighthouse, where Nathan had kissed her and Jefferson had…

Differentiating between dreams and reality was becoming increasingly difficult as of late, and Max no longer knew how to separate them. It was maddening.

“A storm shelter?” Max finally asked, taking much longer than necessary to process what Nathan had said. Max stumbled as they hit a curb, and Nathan moved to catch her, grabbing the brunette’s elbow to keep her upright.

“Why do we need a—”

A deafening boom made both of them jump, and for a single horrifying moment Max feared that Mr Jefferson had found them. When suddenly they were pelted with heavy rain droplets from above, Max turned her gaze skyward—

And was met with a sight far worse than anything Jefferson could possibly have in store for the duo.

The sky was torn—barely visible through the heavy black-grey clouds that swirled above—each of them wisping together to form an angry, twisting vortex.

“Please,” Max whispered, only just audible over the gale whipping hair about her face. “Please tell me this is another dream.”

Nathan let go of her hand, instead moving to snake his arm around her shoulders, pulling Max close.

“Not this time.”

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying, Max tore her gaze from the catastrophe overhead, head hanging in defeat. They could not outrun a storm like this, and without a safe place to go, there was nothing more that they could do. They had run out of time.

“Max,” Nathan spoke, and Max turned to face him. Nathan wasn’t looking at her though, head tilted skyward. He blinked in to the rainfall rapidly, and by the break in his voice, the tight grip at her shoulder, Max was sure Nathan was crying.

“I’m sorry, Max.”

The utter despair in his tone was heartbreaking, and Max floundered to find some way to comfort him. If they were going to die, then Max didn’t want either of them in tears when it happened.

“Nathan, _no_ , this is my fault—”

“Turn around.”

Nathan stiffened, and Max felt her mouth dry out all at once, stomach clenching uncomfortably in fear. Slowly, they turned, and Max flinched at the sight of the angry man before her.

Jefferson had lost his jacket somewhere during the chase, and Max could only assume that the absence of his glasses was the leading reason they had not been shot while fleeing. His shirt was drenched, muddied from likely falling, a large cut along his cheekbone visible even from where Max stood.

“You look like shit!” Nathan called, despite their own worn appearances, and the fact that Jefferson had a _gun_ pointed directly at them. Poor vision aside, Jefferson would not miss them from this proximity, Max knew.

“Do you see now why I didn’t want this to happen, Max?” Gesturing to the environment around them with his free hand, Jefferson cocked his gun toward Nathan, who gripped at Max’s side tightly.

“Well maybe,” Max retorted, “if you had tried to explain things better without feeling like you had to trap and kill me, everything would have made a lot more sense.”

“You understand why I kept this a secret,” Mr Jefferson grimaced, eyes dancing between the duo. Behind the clear look of anger and frustration, Max could see something else—just a hint of…fear? What could Jefferson be afraid of? He was the one holding the gun.

“Not really,” Max shrugged sharply, folding her arms across her chest. “Do you know how fucking long I’ve been dealing with these bullshit visions now—with no idea what they were, and no one to talk to about it? I thought I was going crazy, until Nathan finally said something.”

Nathan glanced sidelong at Max, a warning for the brunette to watch what she revealed about the things he had told her.

“And what exactly did Nathan here have to say for himself, hmm?”

Max kept her eyes glued to the gun held tight in Jefferson’s grip, blinking rapidly through the onslaught of rain and wind that stung her cheeks and made her shiver in to her wet hoodie.

“He told me enough,” Max answered simply. “It was enough that I didn’t feel so alone anymore—to know that I wasn’t going crazy.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jefferson returned quickly, thrusting the gun at them as a means of threat. “And if you feel the need to lie to me again, I might just start feeling the need to shoot you. _Both_ of you.”

Opening and closing her mouth, no response coming to mind, all Max could muster was a single, half-hearted snort. Jefferson’s brow curved in question, eyes narrowing.

“What happened to not wanting to kill me, huh? You said it yourself in the diner. Even without time travel involved, you would still care about me. Right?”

Jefferson didn’t answer straight away, his gaze shifting away entirely from the pair to stare down at a nearby upturned trashcan. Finally, he turned back to face them, expression one of a steeled resolve. Max didn’t like that look.

“My having feelings toward you doesn’t change anything in this situation,” he responded coldly. Max winced, and Nathan’s grip at her arm tightened. “As it stands, I can no longer directly change what has happened here, and am on the verge of losing my power. And once that happens, I won’t remember any of this—nor will I remember anything I have ever said, thought or done in relation to time travel. So come now,” Jefferson took a step forward, prompting Nathan to drag them both back a single step. “Let’s not put off the inevitable, okay?”

“It doesn’t have to go down like this,” Nathan spoke for the first time since insulting Jefferson ten minutes earlier, having fallen silent to allow Max and Jefferson to talk it out some. “We’ve gone back so many times now—you tried everything but actually telling Max the truth—so go back, and fucking make it happen.”

Jefferson seemed to consider for just a second, though by the way he squared his jaw moments later, shoulders shifting back, Max knew Mr Jefferson had made his decision.

“You clearly don’t fathom how jumping back and forth between events so drastically different fucks with time-space, Nathan—going back the amount of times we have to change the future outcome has triggered Max’s visions earlier and earlier each time, and now,” he gestured around them again. “Now look what’s happened. This gift can’t belong to two people at once—but somehow, both of us have it, and using it in quick succession of one another has brought the storm directly to us. The visions you’ve been seeing, Max? They’re a warning. A premonition of very possible future events, should you be careless in the use of your gift. If we keep going like this, there isn’t going to be anything left to go back to anymore. I _will_ not go back again, and risk _everything_ I’ve worked so hard to achieve simply because poor Nathan here wants another chance at getting in your pants.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Nathan snarled, releasing Max to take a step toward Jefferson. “You knew damn fucking well how I felt about Max this whole time, and yet you used the admiration she had for you to manipulate her in to falling for you. Fucking paedophile freak.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jefferson’s grimace turned up in to a smug grin, his stance shifting in to one of pure confidence. “I never manipulated Max in to feeling the way she does—that was all up to her. And really, is my going back in time again and again in an attempt to change this future for the better of the both of us not proof enough of my feelings toward Max? It’s true that I was aware of your feelings for her—but there could hardly be any merit to them, when you felt the very same way toward the last girl this power was supposed to go to. What was her name…?”

“You fucking bastard,” Nathan took another step forward, and Max decided she should pull him back to keep in contact—Jefferson could shoot him at any moment now. Just as she was about to reach for his jacket sleeve, however, she saw Jefferson move from the corner of her eye.

Max watched the older man lift the hand at his hip, long fingers spread wide, his palm facing frontward toward them. Without taking a second more to deliberate her next actions, Max ran and jumped between the two men, raising her own hand in a similar fashion to Jefferson. His face twisted as he processed what she had done, mouth opening to shout at her—

And then everything went white.

The horror of the natural disaster happening around them disappeared, and Max was blinded by the sheer brightness before her eyes, so much so that she had to scrunch her lids shut tight just in an attempt to block out the light. She could not hear or feel Nathan or Mr Jefferson nearby, hands outstretched in all directions, feeling for someone or something—but there was nothing. She decided her next best option was to shout and gain somebodies attention. Inhaling deeply through her nose, Max opened her mouth to yell—

But when she did, no sound came. Brows knitting together in confusion, Max tried again.

Nothing. It was as though her vocal chords had been severed, cut off and entirely unusable. She could feel the muscles in her throat muscles working, her mouth accommodating to the formation of words and sounds, but yet nothing came. A sense of great unease formed within the pit of her stomach, and with the brightness of the white light still not fading, Max begin to grow panicky.

Where was she? What had happened? Where were Nathan and Mr Jefferson? Max remembered Jefferson lifting his hand—remembered jumping between the two men so as to stop Nathan from being immobilised. She had lifted her hand and then—

Wait.

Clenching and unclenching her right hand, Max felt tingle at her fingertips she had not noticed before, a buzz through her veins that seemed to pull from the very air around her. Max remembered the sensation—she had felt something very similar when she had frozen time to stop Nathan from being shot. But if that was the case, then…

A clap of thunder striking overhead made Max yelp, opening her eyes in panic. Max was welcomed not by the burning of white, instead opening her eyes to an open sky of greyed storm clouds and unforgiving rainfall. Realising she was lying in the dirt and wonder how she’d gotten there in the first place, Max pushed herself upward on to her side, scanning her surroundings for answers.

Where was she? What was happening?

Heavy rainfall weighing her down, Max managed to drag herself out of the mud in to a standing position, and recognised at once that she was standing on the pathway leading up to the lighthouse. But how had she gotten there?

Realising that standing around in the rain asking questions she knew not the answers to would gain her no ground, Max decided to head for the lighthouse—perhaps she would be safe, if she could make it there…

_Please let me make it there._

Making her way cautiously up the broken path, Max lifted her arm to shield herself from the whipping winds and merciless rain. She was drenched. Reaching the top of the cliff, Max turned to look out over the bay—

And was horrified by what she saw.

A roaring monster of a hurricane had formed from the ocean below, whipped up in to a violent vortex by the storm overhead. It was deafening, and Max did not know whether to cover her ears, or keep her arms where they were to shield herself from branches and other small debris that blew past her face.

_Holy shit._

It was the biggest water vortex that Max had ever seen in her entire life—and it was headed straight for the town down below.

Too caught up in her own panic, Max did not see the fishing boat that was ejected from within the hurricane, spat out and shot straight overhead—straight in to the tip of the lighthouse.

Turning with a gasp, Max realised her fate—could only watch on with empty dread as the crumbling lighthouse came down upon her, the debris burying her entirely—

And then Max woke up.

Eyes flying open, Max inhaled sharply. She felt as though she had been kicked from her own dream, her mind scrambled, unable to discern what was real and what was not.

She was…in class.

To the middle of the room stood Mark Jefferson, pacing the classroom as he spoke animatedly of the visual effect and representation of light and shadow within photography. She watched him walk the room, noticed the look he shot her that could clearly be read as, _‘I hope you’re listening, because when I ask my next question, you will be the first person I prompt for an answer.’_

Had that been a dream? It had been so vivid—to the point where Max simply could not believe it to have been a figment of her imagination. Something pulled at the strings of her memory, and Max felt a twinge of familiarity in her current situation—almost like déjà vu. This…had happened before. Hadn’t it? She simply couldn’t remember.

Glancing around, Max noticed as Taylor threw something across the room at Kate, frowning at the obvious act of bullying. She should probably speak with Kate about that after class.

An uncontrollable shiver rolled down Max’s spine, and she zoned back in to what Mr Jefferson was talking about, unable to shake the sudden feeling that she was being watched.

“—Could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation.”

Catching Jefferson’s gaze, Max felt her blood run cold, the tremor through her body back again, as he spoke—as though only to her.

“And any one of you could do that to me. Isn’t that too easy? Too obvious?”

Max swallowed dryly, uncomfortable, but unable to tear her eyes from Jefferson’s. The tug of familiarity was back again, and Max felt her insides quake painfully. There was something _missing_ , a piece of a puzzle she could not see nor touch, but could sense was there. It ate at her mind, burned at the edges of her equilibrium. The storm, this class, the look in Mr Jefferson’s eye as he stared her down even now—it was all so _familiar_.

But why.

_Why._

 


End file.
